 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
SCENE III.
Morning, morning on the mountains, golden-vestured, snowy-browed!
Morning light of clear resplendence, shining forth without a cloud;
Morning songs of jubilation, thrilling through the crystal air;
Morning joy upon all faces, new and radiant, pure and fair.
Morning light of clear resplendence, shining forth without a cloud;
Morning songs of jubilation, thrilling through the crystal air;
Morning joy upon all faces, new and radiant, pure and fair.
At the portals of the mansion, Ernest stands and gazes back.
There is light upon the river, light upon the forest track;
Light upon the darkest valley, light upon the sternest height;
Light upon the brake and bramble, everywhere that glorious light!
There is light upon the river, light upon the forest track;
Light upon the darkest valley, light upon the sternest height;
Light upon the brake and bramble, everywhere that glorious light!
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Strong and joyous stands the traveller, in the morning glory now,
Not a shade upon the brightness of the cool and peaceful brow;
Not a trace of weary faintness, not a touch of lingering pain,
Not a scar to wake the memory of the suffering hours again.
Not a shade upon the brightness of the cool and peaceful brow;
Not a trace of weary faintness, not a touch of lingering pain,
Not a scar to wake the memory of the suffering hours again.
Onward by the winding pathway, many another journeyed fast,
Hastening to the princely mansion by the way that he had passed;
Spared the doubting and the erring by those footsteps bravely placed
In the clogging mire, or trampling on the wounding bramble-waste.
Hastening to the princely mansion by the way that he had passed;
Spared the doubting and the erring by those footsteps bravely placed
In the clogging mire, or trampling on the wounding bramble-waste.
Some had followed close behind him, pressing to the self-same mark,
Cheered and guided by the refrain of that singer in the dark;
Some were near him in the tempest, while he thought himself alone,
And regained a long-lost pathway, following that beckoning tone.
Cheered and guided by the refrain of that singer in the dark;
Some were near him in the tempest, while he thought himself alone,
And regained a long-lost pathway, following that beckoning tone.
Some who patiently, yet feebly, sought to reach that mansion too,
Caught the unseen singer's courage, battled on with vigour new;
Some, exhausted in the struggle, sunk in slumber chill and deep,
Started at that strange voice near them, rousing from their fatal sleep.
Caught the unseen singer's courage, battled on with vigour new;
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Started at that strange voice near them, rousing from their fatal sleep.
Now they meet and gather round him, and together enter in,
Where the rest is consummated and the joys of home begin,
Where the tempest cannot reach them, where the wanderings are past,
Where the sorrows of the journey not a single shadow cast.
Where the rest is consummated and the joys of home begin,
Where the tempest cannot reach them, where the wanderings are past,
Where the sorrows of the journey not a single shadow cast.
Singing once in dismal forest, singing once in cruel storm,
Singing now at home in gladness in the sunshine bright and warm,
Once again the voice resoundeth, pouring forth a happy song,
While a chorus of rejoicing swells the sweet notes full and long:
Singing now at home in gladness in the sunshine bright and warm,
Once again the voice resoundeth, pouring forth a happy song,
While a chorus of rejoicing swells the sweet notes full and long:
‘Light after darkness,
Gain after loss,
Strength after suffering,
Crown after cross.
Sweet after bitter,
Song after sigh,
Home after wandering,
Praise after cry.
Gain after loss,
Strength after suffering,
Crown after cross.
Sweet after bitter,
Song after sigh,
Home after wandering,
Praise after cry.
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‘Sheaves after sowing,
Sun after rain,
Sight after mystery,
Peace after pain.
Joy after sorrow,
Calm after blast,
Rest after weariness,
Sweet rest at last.
Sun after rain,
Sight after mystery,
Peace after pain.
Joy after sorrow,
Calm after blast,
Rest after weariness,
Sweet rest at last.
‘Near after distant,
Gleam after gloom,
Love after loneliness,
Life after tomb.
After long agony,
Rapture of bliss!
Right was the pathway
Leading to this!’
Gleam after gloom,
Love after loneliness,
Life after tomb.
After long agony,
Rapture of bliss!
Right was the pathway
Leading to this!’
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |