The Sanctuary A Companion in Verse for the English Prayer Book. By Robert Montgomery |
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Monday in Whitsun Week.
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 | The Sanctuary |  |
175
Monday in Whitsun Week.
“Rejoice in his holy comfort.”
—Collect for the Day.
Life is a fever, Man a living thirst,
A Want unfathom'd, which no creatures fill;
And, less than Infinite but leaves him curs't—
Though, rich as Crœsus, yet, a pauper still!
A Want unfathom'd, which no creatures fill;
And, less than Infinite but leaves him curs't—
Though, rich as Crœsus, yet, a pauper still!
But, glory to embodied Love! which came
Down from pure bliss, to suffer, bleed, and die;
On earth, compassion, and in heaven, the same,
Whose heart is echo'd by the Church's sigh;
Down from pure bliss, to suffer, bleed, and die;
On earth, compassion, and in heaven, the same,
Whose heart is echo'd by the Church's sigh;
As in our world of wasting grief,
The blinded vagrant and the beggar lone
Heard from His lip the music of relief,
And deep compassion in divinest tone,—
The blinded vagrant and the beggar lone
Heard from His lip the music of relief,
And deep compassion in divinest tone,—
So, in far secresy of splendour, now
Heaven above heavens, enshrined in awful calm,—
Anguish to Him may lift the sunken brow,
And bathe her forehead in celestial balm.
Heaven above heavens, enshrined in awful calm,—
Anguish to Him may lift the sunken brow,
And bathe her forehead in celestial balm.
Perfect in Manhood, as in Godhead, pure,
Still on His throne those sympathies remain
Which taught Him, once, man's trial to endure,
And the keen throbbings of terrestrial pain.
Still on His throne those sympathies remain
Which taught Him, once, man's trial to endure,
And the keen throbbings of terrestrial pain.
Thus, none are blighted, lonesome, and unblest,
Save moral suicides, whose crimes destroy
Creation's refuge and the sinner's rest,
By leaving Christ for some created joy.
Save moral suicides, whose crimes destroy
Creation's refuge and the sinner's rest,
By leaving Christ for some created joy.
Hence, may our lives a liturgy of love,
Lord of bright worlds! for our redemption be,
And learn below, that Secret from above,—
No hearts are restless, which repose on Thee.
Lord of bright worlds! for our redemption be,
And learn below, that Secret from above,—
No hearts are restless, which repose on Thee.
| The Sanctuary | |