 | A Selection from Unpublished Poems |  |
9
OUR CHURCH.
How brightly our church, this sunny time,
Shows out on the hill its light-gray wall,
And five-sounded tower, rising tall
Above the dark yew and leafy lime,
And flinging its merry sounds of bells
Out over the many-fielded dells!
Shows out on the hill its light-gray wall,
And five-sounded tower, rising tall
Above the dark yew and leafy lime,
And flinging its merry sounds of bells
Out over the many-fielded dells!
Though I have my roof beside the spring,
And yours is beside the hollow oak,
And some by the street may send up smoke,
And others' lone doors by fields may swing,
Still there are the chimes that sweetly call
Us all to the house that stands for all.
And yours is beside the hollow oak,
And some by the street may send up smoke,
And others' lone doors by fields may swing,
Still there are the chimes that sweetly call
Us all to the house that stands for all.
For all, at Our Lord's high call, to go
To share of His graces; glad, but meek;
And hear the good words His love may speak,
As unto His children, high and low;
Our own to go up that he may bless
Our fast-wedded loves with holiness.
To share of His graces; glad, but meek;
And hear the good words His love may speak,
As unto His children, high and low;
Our own to go up that he may bless
Our fast-wedded loves with holiness.
Our own where Our Lord, in goodness, takes
Our children to make them all His own;
And kindred, beneath cold earth or stone,
May sleep till their souls' bright morning breaks.
Through every change of good and ill,
We there have our church beside the hill.
Our children to make them all His own;
And kindred, beneath cold earth or stone,
May sleep till their souls' bright morning breaks.
Through every change of good and ill,
We there have our church beside the hill.
| A Selection from Unpublished Poems | |