[She who timidly had scattered]
I.
She who timidly had scattered
Trembling line or whispered word,
Till the holy work grew dearer,
And the sacred courage clearer,
Now her Master's own voice heard.
Calling shining throngs around her,
All her own fair harvest found;
Then, her humble name confessing,
With His radiant smile of blessing,
All her dower of gladness crowned.
II.
‘Welcome thou, whose heavenly message
Came with quickening power to me!
O most welcome to the portals
Of this home of bright immortals,
I have waited long for thee!’
‘Who art thou? I never saw thee
In my pilgrimage below,’
Said he, marvelling. ‘I will show thee,’
Answered he, ‘the love I owe thee,
Full and fervent, for I know thee
By the starlight on thy brow.
‘Words that issued from thy chamber
Turned my darkness into light;
Guided footsteps, weak and weary,
Through the desert wild and dreary,
Through the valley of the night.
‘Come! for many another waits thee!
All unfolded thou shalt see,
Through the ecstatic revelation
Of their endless exultation,
What our God hath wrought by thee.’
III.
Hark! a voice all joy-inspiring
Peals adown the golden floor,
Leading on a white-robed chorus,
Sweet as flute, and yet sonorous
As the many waters' roar.
He who sang for Jesus heard it!
‘'Tis the echo of thy song!’
Said the leader. ‘As we listened,
Cold hearts glowed and dim eyes glistened,
And we learned to love and long—
‘Till the longing and the loving
Soared to Him of whom you sang;
Till our Alleluia, swelling,
Through the glory all-excelling,
Up the jasper arches rang.’
IV.
'Mid the angel-constellations,
Like a star of purest flame,
Shining with exceeding brightness,
Robed in snowy-glistering whiteness,
Now a singing reaper came;
Came with fulness of rejoicing
That belovèd smile to meet:
‘Master, lo, I come with singing,
Myriad sheaves of glory bringing
To Thy dear and blessèd feet.’
Followed o'er the golden crystal
Glittering hosts with crown and palm;
Joining him whose voice had taught them,
To the praise of Him who bought them,
In a new and rapturous psalm.
V.
He who humbly watched the sowers,
Watched the reapers of the Lord;
Sharing all their jubilation,
Hailing every coronation,
Gladdened by their great reward.
‘Seed of others long I scattered,
Now their harvest joy is mine,
Kindling holy contemplation
Into glowing adoration,
Into ecstasy divine.’
So he chanted, But the Master
Beckoned through the shining throng;
While the praises of the choir
Rose into that silence, higher
Than the highest flight of song.
Great and gracious words were spoken
Of his faithful service done,
By the Voice that thrills all heaven;
And mysterious rule was given
To that meek and marvelling one.
VI.
Found the little child rich harvest
From his tiny seed of love;
Little footsteps followed surely
In the footprints marked so purely,
Till they met again above.
Aged ones and feeble mourners
Felt the solace of his smile;
Hastened on with footsteps lighter,
Battled on with courage brighter,
Through the lessening ‘little while,’
Till they too had joined the mansions
Where the weary are at rest.
Could that little one forget them?
Oh, how joyously he met them
In this dear home safe and blest!
And the Saviour, who had called him,
Smiled upon His little one;
On his brow, so fair and tender,
Set a crown of heavenly splendour,
With the gracious word, ‘Well done!’
VII.
Yet again a wondrous anthem
Rang across the crystal sea;
Harps and voices all harmonious,
Nearer, nearer, sweet, symphonious,
Meet for heaven's own jubilee.
One by one the singers gathered,
Ever swelling that great song,
Till a mighty chorus thundered,
Till the listening seraphs wondered,
As its triumph pealed along.
Onward came they with rejoicing,
Bearing one upon their wings,
With their waving palms victorious,
To the presence-chamber glorious
Of the very King of kings.
And a whisper, clear and thrilling,
Fell upon her ravished ear—
‘Lo, thy harvest song ascending!
Lo, thy golden sheaves are bending
Full and precious, round thee here!’
‘Nay,’ she said, ‘I have no harvest,
For I had no power to sow;
Burdening others, daily dying,
Year by year in weakness lying,
Still and silent, lone and low.’
Then a flash of sudden glory
Lit her long life-mystery;
By that heavenly intuition
All the secret of her mission
Shone, revealed in radiancy.
And she knew the sweet memorials
Of her hidden life had shed
Clories on the sufferer's pillow,
Calmness on the darkling billow,
Peace upon the dying bed.
Thousand, thousand-fold her guerdon,
Thousand, thousand-fold her bliss!
While His cup of suffering sharing,
All His will so meekly bearing,
He was gloriously preparing
This for her, and her for this!
