The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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November 29
THE WATCHMAN |
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 | The Prisoner of Love |  |
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November 29 THE WATCHMAN
“Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the
night?”—Isa. xxi. 11.
Art thou watching, art thou watching,
For the dawn's first shadow bright?
See, the mountain tops are catching
From afar the coming light.
Endless vigils we must pay,
For the vision of the day.
For the dawn's first shadow bright?
See, the mountain tops are catching
From afar the coming light.
Endless vigils we must pay,
For the vision of the day.
Watchman, sleep not at thy post,
By false beacons be not led
When thy duty wants thee most,
Ere the morn break overhead;
Truth demands the dearest price,
Sleepless love as sacrifice.
By false beacons be not led
When thy duty wants thee most,
Ere the morn break overhead;
Truth demands the dearest price,
Sleepless love as sacrifice.
Art thou watching, art thou watching,
For the freedom and its feast?
Soon will come the sweet unlatching,
Of the gateways in the East.
Liberty, that's won by strife,
Asks an ever-wakeful life.
For the freedom and its feast?
Soon will come the sweet unlatching,
Of the gateways in the East.
Liberty, that's won by strife,
Asks an ever-wakeful life.
Watchman, here we have no rest
Now before the night is past—
Until folded to God's Breast,
Which is Heaven and Home, at last.
Christ will have His offering whole,
Endless vigils of the soul.
Now before the night is past—
Until folded to God's Breast,
Which is Heaven and Home, at last.
Christ will have His offering whole,
Endless vigils of the soul.
| The Prisoner of Love | |