 | Lyrics (1895) |  |
172
A DEATH-BED
For once, a little king I lie,
My gentle subjects enter in,
I take from reverent hand and eye
The wistful homage of my kin.
My gentle subjects enter in,
I take from reverent hand and eye
The wistful homage of my kin.
I furl at last the patient wing
That flew unnoticed in the throng;
They tend me now, a precious thing;—
They will not need to tend me long;—
That flew unnoticed in the throng;
They tend me now, a precious thing;—
They will not need to tend me long;—
The Father who ordained that here
I should be happiest when forgot,
Will thrust me to no radiant sphere;—
But see and smile and chide me not,
I should be happiest when forgot,
Will thrust me to no radiant sphere;—
But see and smile and chide me not,
173
And keep some corner of His house,
Where such unnoted souls as I
May creep and peep like wainscot mouse,
And trustful and unquestioned lie.
Where such unnoted souls as I
May creep and peep like wainscot mouse,
And trustful and unquestioned lie.
Yet in my heart one secret hope
I cherish, that my God hath planned
For all who find on earth no scope,
No purpose, but from hand to hand
I cherish, that my God hath planned
For all who find on earth no scope,
No purpose, but from hand to hand
Are tossed and bandied,—hath designed
Some gift of might and mastery;
Oh, thrice-rewarded, if I find
Perchance my God hath need of me!
Some gift of might and mastery;
Oh, thrice-rewarded, if I find
Perchance my God hath need of me!
And so beyond these sorry walls
These streets my weary feet have trode,
My soul leans out to solemn halls
Of glory, to the Deeps of God.
These streets my weary feet have trode,
My soul leans out to solemn halls
Of glory, to the Deeps of God.
| Lyrics (1895) | |