The new minnesinger and other poems By Arran Leigh [i.e. K. H. Bradley and E. E. Cooper] |
 |
 |
CHILDREN OF THE PROMISE.
|
 | The new minnesinger and other poems |  |
129
CHILDREN OF THE PROMISE.
O Lord, they have great faith in Thee,
Thy hedgerow children small;
They take no thought of what shall be,
What terror shall befall:
Their tender blooms they open free
At thy creating call.
Thy hedgerow children small;
They take no thought of what shall be,
What terror shall befall:
Their tender blooms they open free
At thy creating call.
While underneath a leaden sky,
At thy low-whisper'd word,
On leafless boughs confidingly
Trills out the happy bird,
The primrose opes a trustful eye
By some sweet instinct stirr'd.
At thy low-whisper'd word,
On leafless boughs confidingly
Trills out the happy bird,
The primrose opes a trustful eye
By some sweet instinct stirr'd.
130
The fragile flowers we love the best
Thou giv'st when frosts are keen;
'Mid ruffling winds Thou cherishest
The tender nursling green;
Thy perfect strength most manifest
In weakest things is seen.
Thou giv'st when frosts are keen;
'Mid ruffling winds Thou cherishest
The tender nursling green;
Thy perfect strength most manifest
In weakest things is seen.
Dear Lord, Thou askest us to grow
Sweet flowers of grace for Thee;
But the chill wind doth fright us so,
We fear their doom to see;
We will not let the blossoms blow
In a world so winterly.
Sweet flowers of grace for Thee;
But the chill wind doth fright us so,
We fear their doom to see;
We will not let the blossoms blow
In a world so winterly.
But if the timid flower will breast
For Thee the bitter air;
If the unshelter'd bird can rest
On barren boughs, and dare
Grow songful of the summer nest
He feels Thou wilt prepare,
For Thee the bitter air;
If the unshelter'd bird can rest
On barren boughs, and dare
Grow songful of the summer nest
He feels Thou wilt prepare,
Shall we not, Lord, that love requite
That gives our faith free room?
Shall it not be our high delight
To sing 'neath skies of gloom?
To yield to peril and to blight
The flowers thou biddest bloom?
That gives our faith free room?
131
To sing 'neath skies of gloom?
To yield to peril and to blight
The flowers thou biddest bloom?
And if no harvest fruit may be
From our poor blossoms bred,
If from the tempest-shaken tree
They fall untimely dead;
At Thy command, right gladly, we
Their white, waste leaves will shed.
From our poor blossoms bred,
If from the tempest-shaken tree
They fall untimely dead;
At Thy command, right gladly, we
Their white, waste leaves will shed.
| The new minnesinger and other poems | |