 | Songs Old and New |  |
I.
“All generations shall call me blessed.”
Age after age has called thee bless'd,
Yet none have fathomed all thy bliss;
Mothers, who read the secret best,
Or angels,—yet its depths must miss.
Yet none have fathomed all thy bliss;
Mothers, who read the secret best,
Or angels,—yet its depths must miss.
To dwell at home with Him for years,
And prove His filial love thine own;
In all a mother's tender cares
To serve thy Saviour in thy Son!
And prove His filial love thine own;
In all a mother's tender cares
To serve thy Saviour in thy Son!
To see before thee day by day
That perfect life expand and shine,
And learn by sight, as angels may,
All that is holy and Divine!
That perfect life expand and shine,
And learn by sight, as angels may,
All that is holy and Divine!
Well may we heap thy blessing up
From age to age, from land to land,
Since Christ Himself that brimming cup
Gives to the lowliest Christian's hand,
From age to age, from land to land,
18
Gives to the lowliest Christian's hand,
The measure of a blessedness
Yet by that measure unexpress'd;
Sealing the mother's joy with “Yes,”
The Christian's, with His “rather bless'd.”
Yet by that measure unexpress'd;
Sealing the mother's joy with “Yes,”
The Christian's, with His “rather bless'd.”
| Songs Old and New | |