Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton collected and arranged by H. Augusta Dodge |
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HYMN SUNG AT THE SEMI-CENTENNIAL IN BRAINTREE |
 | Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton |  |
HYMN SUNG AT THE SEMI-CENTENNIAL IN BRAINTREE
Hope smiles amid the May-time's scented buds,
Joy sits enthroned beneath the purpling vine;
But Autumn may not wreathe Spring violets,
Nor April quaff October's ruddy wine;
Yet, on Judea's sacred soil, there blooms
Thrice beautiful, thrice blessed, one fair tree
Whose fruit and flower their grateful incense blend,
Joy of the Now, and Hope of the To-be.
Joy sits enthroned beneath the purpling vine;
But Autumn may not wreathe Spring violets,
Nor April quaff October's ruddy wine;
Yet, on Judea's sacred soil, there blooms
Thrice beautiful, thrice blessed, one fair tree
Whose fruit and flower their grateful incense blend,
Joy of the Now, and Hope of the To-be.
185
So, thou long-tried and purely true in all,
Thou standest in thy Heaven-appointed way;
The years that bind a glory round thy brow,
Lay gathered vintage at thy feet to-day.
But while the reapers shout the Harvest Home,
God's angel, Hope, spreads wide each quivering wing,
And sees beyond the golden-glowing West,
The fair, full promise of perpetual Spring.
Thou standest in thy Heaven-appointed way;
The years that bind a glory round thy brow,
Lay gathered vintage at thy feet to-day.
But while the reapers shout the Harvest Home,
God's angel, Hope, spreads wide each quivering wing,
And sees beyond the golden-glowing West,
The fair, full promise of perpetual Spring.
O happy hand, damp with baptismal dews!
O loving lips, sweet with the balm of God!
Strong arm to bear the grief-worn spirit up!
Firm feet to lead where Christ, the Saviour, trod!—
Thy grateful children gather round thee here
To lift to thine the light of tender eyes,
And with warm hearts, nor time nor death can chill,
Attend thine upward pathway to the skies.
O loving lips, sweet with the balm of God!
Strong arm to bear the grief-worn spirit up!
Firm feet to lead where Christ, the Saviour, trod!—
Thy grateful children gather round thee here
To lift to thine the light of tender eyes,
And with warm hearts, nor time nor death can chill,
Attend thine upward pathway to the skies.
| Chips, fragments and vestiges by Gail Hamilton | |