The works of Mrs. Hemans With a memoir of her life, by her sister. In seven volumes |
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 | The works of Mrs. Hemans |  |
O Son of Man!
In thy last mortal hour
Shadows of earth closed round thee fearfully!
All that on us is laid,
All the deep gloom,
The desolation and the abandonment,
The dark amaze of death;
All upon thee too fell,
Redeemer! Son of Man!
In thy last mortal hour
Shadows of earth closed round thee fearfully!
All that on us is laid,
All the deep gloom,
The desolation and the abandonment,
The dark amaze of death;
All upon thee too fell,
Redeemer! Son of Man!
But the keen pang
Wherewith the silver cord
Of earth's affection from the soul is wrung;
The uptearing of those tendrils which have grown
Into the quick strong heart;
This, this, the passion and the agony
Of battling love and death,
Surely was not for thee,
Holy one! Son of God!
Wherewith the silver cord
Of earth's affection from the soul is wrung;
The uptearing of those tendrils which have grown
Into the quick strong heart;
This, this, the passion and the agony
Of battling love and death,
139
Holy one! Son of God!
Yes, my Redeemer!
E'en this cup was thine!
Fond wailing voices call'd thy spirit back:
E'en 'midst the mighty thoughts
Of that last crowning hour;
E'en on thine awful way to victory,
Wildly they call'd thee back!
And weeping eyes of love
Unto thy heart's deep core,
Pierced through the folds of death's mysterious veil—
Sufferer! thou Son of Man!
E'en this cup was thine!
Fond wailing voices call'd thy spirit back:
E'en 'midst the mighty thoughts
Of that last crowning hour;
E'en on thine awful way to victory,
Wildly they call'd thee back!
And weeping eyes of love
Unto thy heart's deep core,
Pierced through the folds of death's mysterious veil—
Sufferer! thou Son of Man!
Mother-tears were mingled
With thy costly blood-drops,
In the shadow of the atoning cross;
And the friend, the faithful,
He that on thy bosom,
Thence imbibing heavenly love, had lain—
He a pale sad watcher—
Met with looks of anguish,
All the anguish in thy last meek glance—
Dying Son of Man!
With thy costly blood-drops,
In the shadow of the atoning cross;
And the friend, the faithful,
He that on thy bosom,
Thence imbibing heavenly love, had lain—
He a pale sad watcher—
Met with looks of anguish,
All the anguish in thy last meek glance—
Dying Son of Man!
Oh! therefore unto thee,
Thou that hast known all woes
Bound in the girdle of mortality!
Thou that wilt lift the reed
Which storms have bruised,
To thee may sorrow through each conflict cry,
And, in that tempest-hour, when love and life
Mysteriously must part,
When tearful eyes
Are passionately bent
To drink earth's last fond meaning from our gaze,
Then, then forsake us not!
Shed on our spirits then
The faith and deep submissiveness of thine!
Thou that didst love,
Thou that didst weep and die—
Thou that didst rise a victor glorified;
Conqueror! thou Son of God!
Thou that hast known all woes
Bound in the girdle of mortality!
Thou that wilt lift the reed
Which storms have bruised,
To thee may sorrow through each conflict cry,
140
Mysteriously must part,
When tearful eyes
Are passionately bent
To drink earth's last fond meaning from our gaze,
Then, then forsake us not!
Shed on our spirits then
The faith and deep submissiveness of thine!
Thou that didst love,
Thou that didst weep and die—
Thou that didst rise a victor glorified;
Conqueror! thou Son of God!
| The works of Mrs. Hemans | |