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|
 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
Such are the five, as now they seem
In the golden haze of Memory's dream.
But the future! who may lift the veil
And read its yet unwritten tale!
The rose, or the thorn, the sun, the cloud,
The gleeful heart, or the spirit bowed,
The song of joy, or the wail of woe,
Which shall be theirs, we may not know.
The sorrow and joy alike we leave
In the Hand which doeth all things well,
And calmly from that Hand receive
All that each coming year may tell
Our jewel-garland lives by Him;
We would not ask of Life or Death,
Who first shall break its shining rim;
It shall be as the Master saith:
He only shall untwine the bond,
So fair and faithful, fresh and fond.
But oh that each who glistens now
In this verse-woven coronet,
Upon the Saviour's thorn-wreathed brow
May as a living gem be set!
Then never shall their light grow dim;
Redeemed and sanctified by Him,
Their life and love in blended rays
Shall shine in everlasting praise.
In the golden haze of Memory's dream.
141
And read its yet unwritten tale!
The rose, or the thorn, the sun, the cloud,
The gleeful heart, or the spirit bowed,
The song of joy, or the wail of woe,
Which shall be theirs, we may not know.
The sorrow and joy alike we leave
In the Hand which doeth all things well,
And calmly from that Hand receive
All that each coming year may tell
Our jewel-garland lives by Him;
We would not ask of Life or Death,
Who first shall break its shining rim;
It shall be as the Master saith:
He only shall untwine the bond,
So fair and faithful, fresh and fond.
But oh that each who glistens now
In this verse-woven coronet,
Upon the Saviour's thorn-wreathed brow
May as a living gem be set!
Then never shall their light grow dim;
Redeemed and sanctified by Him,
Their life and love in blended rays
Shall shine in everlasting praise.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |