The Sanctuary A Companion in Verse for the English Prayer Book. By Robert Montgomery |
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Tuesday before Easter.
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 | The Sanctuary |  |
Tuesday before Easter.
“God will help me, therefore shall I not be confounded.”
—Epistle for the Day.
This world becomes a barren scene
To eyes of sunny Youth,
When vices have victorious been
And falsehoods vanquish'd truth;—
Where good men weep, and Virtue droops in shade,
And Minds of most heroic mould, are blighted and betray'd.
To eyes of sunny Youth,
When vices have victorious been
And falsehoods vanquish'd truth;—
Where good men weep, and Virtue droops in shade,
And Minds of most heroic mould, are blighted and betray'd.
149
Thus, to pale martyrs of the Cross,
Distracted earth appears
An orphan'd realm, where pain and loss
Demand perpetual tears:
And, were it all which God for man decreed,—
Who would not, in despair, for widow'd Nature bleed?
Distracted earth appears
An orphan'd realm, where pain and loss
Demand perpetual tears:
And, were it all which God for man decreed,—
Who would not, in despair, for widow'd Nature bleed?
But, soon will dawn a radiant Clime
Where sin nor sorrows reign,
Beyond the clouds of changing time
To shadow, or to stain,—
A bright eternity of balm and bliss
Where pangless Hearts forget a life so false as this.
Where sin nor sorrows reign,
Beyond the clouds of changing time
To shadow, or to stain,—
A bright eternity of balm and bliss
Where pangless Hearts forget a life so false as this.
And, let the full-toned anthem rise
In swells of grateful joy,
That Faith beholds with prescient eyes
What time nor tears destroy,—
A perfect life, compensative of all
Impetuous thoughts presume unworthy Heaven to call.
In swells of grateful joy,
That Faith beholds with prescient eyes
What time nor tears destroy,—
A perfect life, compensative of all
Impetuous thoughts presume unworthy Heaven to call.
It was not thus, ere christian light
Arose on heathen-gloom,
For then, the soul, immersed in night,
Found life a living tomb;
Confusion reign'd o'er providence denied,
And, when of death it thought, the craven bosom sigh'd!
Arose on heathen-gloom,
For then, the soul, immersed in night,
Found life a living tomb;
Confusion reign'd o'er providence denied,
And, when of death it thought, the craven bosom sigh'd!
But now, a beam celestial plays
From out the page Divine;
And o'er the gloom of grief-worn days
What dawning glories shine!—
O'er ruin'd hopes descending to the grave
The banners of the Cross sublimely float, and wave.
From out the page Divine;
And o'er the gloom of grief-worn days
What dawning glories shine!—
O'er ruin'd hopes descending to the grave
The banners of the Cross sublimely float, and wave.
| The Sanctuary | |