 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
Mansoul.
We have sought;
In darkness of our souls, on living Earth,
Right paths. And, mercy of Heaven! we, ín our flesh;
Descended tó Abysm óf Worlds Death;
With Power to évoke spirits of former ages:
Of them, likewise, enquire the ways of Peace.
Stephen.
We have sought;
In darkness of our souls, on living Earth,
Right paths. And, mercy of Heaven! we, ín our flesh;
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With Power to évoke spirits of former ages:
Of them, likewise, enquire the ways of Peace.
Stephen.
The Master, He who to the Heavens ascended,
Ensign of Nations, háth revealed to us,
A living way, which thóugh all else should perish,
Shall never pass. Jeshua, our great High-priest;
Maketh Intercession tó the FATHER for us:
That in the end of all things, now at hand;
Might all men be partakers of HIS Grace.
Ensign of Nations, háth revealed to us,
A living way, which thóugh all else should perish,
Shall never pass. Jeshua, our great High-priest;
Maketh Intercession tó the FATHER for us:
That in the end of all things, now at hand;
Might all men be partakers of HIS Grace.
He healed the Sick, whilst yet He dwelled among us,
The Lepers cleansed, the three-days' dead, He raised;
He comforted the Sad. The birds of air,
The beasts of Field, the lilies of the Land;
Were likewise comprehended ín His Love.
The wild roes fled not forth, at His approach.
The Lepers cleansed, the three-days' dead, He raised;
He comforted the Sad. The birds of air,
The beasts of Field, the lilies of the Land;
Were likewise comprehended ín His Love.
The wild roes fled not forth, at His approach.
DearLord,
make no long tarrying!(Stephen sighed.)
Return soon, whén the Dead, which ín Thee sleep;
Sheep of Thy Fold, shall hear Thy Voice, and live:
Calling each sheep, by name. Whence, being raised;
Ás the glad flowers, which Spring-time lift their heads;
From Winters sod, towards Suns returning warmth:
They íssuing from dim pówder óf Worlds Grave;
Shall íncorrúptible be to Thee caught up;
To meet Thee in thát Thy Kingdom, in the skies.
make no long tarrying!(Stephen sighed.)
Return soon, whén the Dead, which ín Thee sleep;
Sheep of Thy Fold, shall hear Thy Voice, and live:
Calling each sheep, by name. Whence, being raised;
Ás the glad flowers, which Spring-time lift their heads;
From Winters sod, towards Suns returning warmth:
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Shall íncorrúptible be to Thee caught up;
To meet Thee in thát Thy Kingdom, in the skies.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |