 | Poems of home and country |  |
235
THE LIVING CHURCH.
THE ROCK OF AGES.
Built on the Rock of Ages, Lord,
Thy living Church abides secure;
Nations and men may fade away,
Thy work of Grace shall still endure.
Thy living Church abides secure;
Nations and men may fade away,
Thy work of Grace shall still endure.
This temple, to Thine honor reared,
Waits for Thy crowning presence now;
Accept the work our hands have wrought;
We are but dust,—almighty, Thou.
Waits for Thy crowning presence now;
Accept the work our hands have wrought;
We are but dust,—almighty, Thou.
Here men of God shall speak thy praise;
Treasures of thought be gathered here;
And truth, from living lips dispensed,
Fall, welcome, on the listening ear.
Treasures of thought be gathered here;
And truth, from living lips dispensed,
Fall, welcome, on the listening ear.
With humble faith, with holy joy,
We lay our gift before Thy face:
'T is dark, but for Thy radiant light;
'T is poor, but for Thy heavenly Grace.
We lay our gift before Thy face:
'T is dark, but for Thy radiant light;
'T is poor, but for Thy heavenly Grace.
Then let Thy glorious presence, Lord,
O'er all the hallowed work appear;
And let the living record stand,—
The place is holy; God is here.
O'er all the hallowed work appear;
And let the living record stand,—
The place is holy; God is here.
236
GOD ALL IN ALL.
God of all grace, supreme, alone;
Thy robe, the light; the heavens, Thy throne;
The winds, Thy voice; Thy path, the sea,—
Reverent, we bow, and worship Thee.
Thy robe, the light; the heavens, Thy throne;
The winds, Thy voice; Thy path, the sea,—
Reverent, we bow, and worship Thee.
In all Thy works, Thy hand we trace;
Creation does but veil Thy face.
Thy life, our life; Thy warmth, our spring;
Our only rest, Thy sheltering wing.
Creation does but veil Thy face.
Thy life, our life; Thy warmth, our spring;
Our only rest, Thy sheltering wing.
Thy breath makes every pulse-beat thrill;
We feel the whispers of Thy will;
We come, we go, at Thy command;
We wait the moving of Thy hand.
We feel the whispers of Thy will;
We come, we go, at Thy command;
We wait the moving of Thy hand.
Plant in our hearts Thy love and fear;
Teach us Thy precepts to revere;
And fashion us, through grace, to be
But living temples meet for Thee.
Teach us Thy precepts to revere;
And fashion us, through grace, to be
But living temples meet for Thee.
DIVINE PROVIDENCE.
DEDICATION HYMN.
Oh, praise ye Jehovah; His glory proclaim!
Bring joyful hosannas to honor His name;
With glad acclamations His altar draw near;
Bow low to His footstool; Jehovah is here.
Bring joyful hosannas to honor His name;
With glad acclamations His altar draw near;
Bow low to His footstool; Jehovah is here.
237
He speaks in creation; He rules o'er the flood,
Through Nature's wide realm the Omnipotent God;
But chooses the temples we build to His praise,
As shrines for His name, and abodes of His grace.
Through Nature's wide realm the Omnipotent God;
But chooses the temples we build to His praise,
As shrines for His name, and abodes of His grace.
Then come where we wait Thy blessing to prove,
Thou, strong to redeem, and Thou, matchless in love;
Like light breaking forth from the gates of the morn,
May rays from Thy glory this temple adorn!
Thou, strong to redeem, and Thou, matchless in love;
Like light breaking forth from the gates of the morn,
May rays from Thy glory this temple adorn!
THE REDEEMER'S TEARS.
'T was at the grave of Lazarus,
The two fond sisters, in their sackcloth robes,
Drenched in affliction, and the godless Jews,
In that one scene made lovely, as they went
To weep with Mary at the sepulchre,
Stood there, a grieving circle. She came forth,
Obedient, e'en in sorrow, to the call
Of Him who called for her. There was no voice
Among the whited stones that pointed out
The home of dead men, and no scenery,
Or sweet, or gorgeous, in the hills or vales
Of loveliest form and hue that spread around them,
To call forth a moment's admiration;
There was one absorbing sense of sorrow,
That burned at the heart's core. The glorious voice
Of Him who raised, triumphant, the dead brother
Had not broke out in holy thanksgiving;
But there they stood, consumed by their deep grief,
And there—there, Jesus wept.
The evening sun slanted among the hills
Where Zion's temple shone. Down the descent
Of Olivet a joyous crowd advanced,
Singing hosannas unto Him that came,—
The Son of David, and yet David's Lord,
The prophet of their nation; not as when
Each heart beat sadly, and the silent tears
Stole down the cheeks of all the sorrowing band
At the dead brother's tomb. Now all was gay
And bright. But unto a devoted place,
Cursed as the dwelling of the crucifiers,
The crucifiers of the Lord of life
And glory, they were drawing near. The crowd,
Rejoicing in their city, and the sheen
Of their own glorious temple, pressed their way,
Thoughtless of coming evil. But, behold!
Amid the happy throng one stretched His gaze
Into eternity, soon to receive
The uncomforted inhabitants, whose towers
Were ready to their fall,—the inhabitants
Who knew not when their visitation came;
One gazed in silent sadness as He thought
Upon their coming fate, and Jesus wept.
The two fond sisters, in their sackcloth robes,
Drenched in affliction, and the godless Jews,
In that one scene made lovely, as they went
To weep with Mary at the sepulchre,
Stood there, a grieving circle. She came forth,
Obedient, e'en in sorrow, to the call
Of Him who called for her. There was no voice
Among the whited stones that pointed out
The home of dead men, and no scenery,
Or sweet, or gorgeous, in the hills or vales
Of loveliest form and hue that spread around them,
To call forth a moment's admiration;
There was one absorbing sense of sorrow,
That burned at the heart's core. The glorious voice
Of Him who raised, triumphant, the dead brother
Had not broke out in holy thanksgiving;
But there they stood, consumed by their deep grief,
And there—there, Jesus wept.
238
Where Zion's temple shone. Down the descent
Of Olivet a joyous crowd advanced,
Singing hosannas unto Him that came,—
The Son of David, and yet David's Lord,
The prophet of their nation; not as when
Each heart beat sadly, and the silent tears
Stole down the cheeks of all the sorrowing band
At the dead brother's tomb. Now all was gay
And bright. But unto a devoted place,
Cursed as the dwelling of the crucifiers,
The crucifiers of the Lord of life
And glory, they were drawing near. The crowd,
Rejoicing in their city, and the sheen
Of their own glorious temple, pressed their way,
Thoughtless of coming evil. But, behold!
Amid the happy throng one stretched His gaze
Into eternity, soon to receive
The uncomforted inhabitants, whose towers
Were ready to their fall,—the inhabitants
Who knew not when their visitation came;
One gazed in silent sadness as He thought
Upon their coming fate, and Jesus wept.
Wept twice on earth,—once at the tomb of him
Whose sorrowing sisters He had loved; and once,
When He foresaw Jerusalem's dread fate.
Whose sorrowing sisters He had loved; and once,
When He foresaw Jerusalem's dread fate.
239
THE LAST SUPPER.
JOHN XIII. 1; XIV. 14, 23, 27.
From the villages retiring,
Burning with a holy flame,
Though His last days were expiring,
Jesus to the city came:
Still His own disciples loving,
He had words of peace to say;
Anxious thoughts His breast were moving
As drew near the farewell day.
Burning with a holy flame,
Though His last days were expiring,
Jesus to the city came:
Still His own disciples loving,
He had words of peace to say;
Anxious thoughts His breast were moving
As drew near the farewell day.
Round the sacred table sitting,
When the traitorous foe had gone,
Love their souls more closely knitting,
As the dreadful scene drew on,
Pledges of His love He gave them,
Sweet memorials of His name;
Then declared how He, to save them,
From the Father's bosom came.
When the traitorous foe had gone,
Love their souls more closely knitting,
As the dreadful scene drew on,
Pledges of His love He gave them,
Sweet memorials of His name;
Then declared how He, to save them,
From the Father's bosom came.
Peace I leave—my dying token—
'T is my peace I give to you;
Let the words that I have spoken
Be your trust and comfort too.
For a little while I leave you,
To my Father I must go;
Yet I will not—will not grieve you,
But the Comforter bestow.
'T is my peace I give to you;
Let the words that I have spoken
Be your trust and comfort too.
For a little while I leave you,
To my Father I must go;
Yet I will not—will not grieve you,
But the Comforter bestow.
240
Mansions in yon world of glory,
I am going to prepare;
Though the path be dark and gory,
Ye shall all be with Me there.
Father, let Thy mercy guide them,
Sanctify them by Thy grace;
And, whatever woes betide them,
Let them see Thy smiling face.
I am going to prepare;
Though the path be dark and gory,
Ye shall all be with Me there.
Father, let Thy mercy guide them,
Sanctify them by Thy grace;
And, whatever woes betide them,
Let them see Thy smiling face.
GETHSEMANE.
Beyond where Cedron's waters flow,
Behold the suffering Saviour go,
To sad Gethsemane.
His countenance is all divine;
Yet grief appears in every line.
Behold the suffering Saviour go,
To sad Gethsemane.
His countenance is all divine;
Yet grief appears in every line.
He bows beneath the sins of men;
He cries to God, and cries again,
In sad Gethsemane.
He lifts His mournful eyes above,—
“My Father, can this cup remove?”
He cries to God, and cries again,
In sad Gethsemane.
He lifts His mournful eyes above,—
“My Father, can this cup remove?”
With gentle resignation still,
He yielded to His Father's will,
In sad Gethsemane;
“Behold Me here, Thine only Son;
And, Father, let Thy will be done.”
He yielded to His Father's will,
In sad Gethsemane;
“Behold Me here, Thine only Son;
And, Father, let Thy will be done.”
241
The Father heard; and angels, there,
Sustained the Son of God in prayer,
In sad Gethsemane;
He drank the dreadful cup of pain,
Then rose to life and joy again.
Sustained the Son of God in prayer,
In sad Gethsemane;
He drank the dreadful cup of pain,
Then rose to life and joy again.
When storms of sorrow round us sweep,
And scenes of anguish make us weep,
To sad Gethsemane
We'll look, and see the Saviour there,
And humbly bow, like Him, in prayer.
And scenes of anguish make us weep,
To sad Gethsemane
We'll look, and see the Saviour there,
And humbly bow, like Him, in prayer.
THE LORD IS RISEN!
The Lord is risen! and angels wait
Around the place where Jesus slept;
'Mid Roman swords and Jewish hate,
Unseen, their loving watch they kept.
Around the place where Jesus slept;
'Mid Roman swords and Jewish hate,
Unseen, their loving watch they kept.
The Lord is risen! The guard, the seal,
Conspire to hold their trust, in vain.
He lives! He lives! Before Him kneel!
The Conqueror now, though once the Slain.
Conspire to hold their trust, in vain.
He lives! He lives! Before Him kneel!
The Conqueror now, though once the Slain.
The Lord is risen! The timid few
Heard with faint faith the wondrous word;
“Can such deep mystery be true?”
“Where, gardener, hast thou laid my Lord?”
Heard with faint faith the wondrous word;
“Can such deep mystery be true?”
“Where, gardener, hast thou laid my Lord?”
242
He looked! He spoke!—His loving word
Made the sad woman's heart rejoice;
“Mary,”—she knew her risen Lord;
“Rabboni,”—'t is the Master's voice!
Made the sad woman's heart rejoice;
“Mary,”—she knew her risen Lord;
“Rabboni,”—'t is the Master's voice!
The Lord is risen!—Death's reign is o'er;
The goal achieved, the victory won.
The Lord is risen! His name adore!
The great atoning work is done!
The goal achieved, the victory won.
The Lord is risen! His name adore!
The great atoning work is done!
THE LIVING CHURCH SWEEPS ON.
CENTENNIAL HYMN.
Blest be the ancient men whose feet
Once sought these holy towers;
Blest be the saints whose voices sweet
Hallowed the sacred hours.
Once sought these holy towers;
Blest be the saints whose voices sweet
Hallowed the sacred hours.
Blest be the sires whose Christly speech
In silvery accents flowed;
So skilled to pray, so skilled to preach,—
Men grandly taught of God.
In silvery accents flowed;
So skilled to pray, so skilled to preach,—
Men grandly taught of God.
Numbered among the holy dead,
Their forms from earth are gone;
Through all the century's silent tread,
The Living Church sweeps on.
Their forms from earth are gone;
Through all the century's silent tread,
The Living Church sweeps on.
243
Have faith in God; His sceptred arm
O'er time and tempest reigns;
His little flock, secure from harm,
Safe on the Rock remains.
O'er time and tempest reigns;
His little flock, secure from harm,
Safe on the Rock remains.
God of our fathers, in Thy name
Our banners still we raise;
Thy changeless love, the years proclaim,
And swell Thy sounding praise.
Our banners still we raise;
Thy changeless love, the years proclaim,
And swell Thy sounding praise.
A RICH BEQUEST.
Where are the ancient men who reared
In faith this honored shrine?
Where are the godly souls whose deeds
On this fair record shine?
In faith this honored shrine?
Where are the godly souls whose deeds
On this fair record shine?
Joined to yon glorious host on high,—
The heavenly Bridegroom's train;
Choice souls!—to them, to live was Christ,
To them, to die was gain.
The heavenly Bridegroom's train;
Choice souls!—to them, to live was Christ,
To them, to die was gain.
The Church, the world, their native land,
They served with noble lives;
Loved and lamented! and their faith,
A rich bequest, survives.
They served with noble lives;
Loved and lamented! and their faith,
A rich bequest, survives.
The long procession upward winds
To the celestial shore;
The living, loving, keep the path
The leaders trod before.
To the celestial shore;
The living, loving, keep the path
The leaders trod before.
244
As beams the sun from age to age,
With undiminished blaze,
Lord, may the light they kindled here
Shine ever to Thy praise.
With undiminished blaze,
Lord, may the light they kindled here
Shine ever to Thy praise.
Head of the Church, while rolling years
Their solemn course fulfil,
Smile on the work the fathers wrought,
And bless their children still.
Their solemn course fulfil,
Smile on the work the fathers wrought,
And bless their children still.
May 9, 1890.
| Poems of home and country | |