 | Carmina crucis |  |
117
VESPERS.
When I have said my quiet say,
When I have sung my little song,
How sweetly, sweetly dies the day
The valley and the hill along;
How sweet the summons, “Come away”
That calls me from the busy throng!
When I have sung my little song,
How sweetly, sweetly dies the day
The valley and the hill along;
How sweet the summons, “Come away”
That calls me from the busy throng!
I thought beside the water's flow
Awhile to lie beneath the leaves,
I thought in Autumn's harvest glow
To rest my head upon the sheaves;
But, lo! methinks the day was brief
And cloudy; flower, nor fruit, nor leaf
I bring, and yet accepted, free,
And blest, my Lord, I come to Thee.
Awhile to lie beneath the leaves,
I thought in Autumn's harvest glow
To rest my head upon the sheaves;
But, lo! methinks the day was brief
And cloudy; flower, nor fruit, nor leaf
I bring, and yet accepted, free,
And blest, my Lord, I come to Thee.
What matter now for promise lost,
Through blast of Spring or Summer rains!
What matter now for purpose crost,
For broken hopes and wasted pains;
What if the olive little yields,
What if the grape be blighted? Thine
The corn upon a thousand fields,
Upon a thousand hills the vine.
Through blast of Spring or Summer rains!
What matter now for purpose crost,
For broken hopes and wasted pains;
118
What if the grape be blighted? Thine
The corn upon a thousand fields,
Upon a thousand hills the vine.
Thou lovest still the poor; oh, blest
In poverty beloved to be!
Less lowly is my choice confess'd,
I love the rich in loving Thee!
My spirit bare before Thee stands,
I bring no gift, I ask no sign,
I come to Thee with empty hands
The surer to be fill'd from Thine!
In poverty beloved to be!
Less lowly is my choice confess'd,
I love the rich in loving Thee!
My spirit bare before Thee stands,
I bring no gift, I ask no sign,
I come to Thee with empty hands
The surer to be fill'd from Thine!
| Carmina crucis | |