One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads Original, and suitable for music [by Jean Ingelow] |
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ADVENT SUNDAY. EVENING. |
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 | One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads |  |
ADVENT SUNDAY. EVENING.
“What I say unto you I say unto all, Watch.”
“Watchman, what of the night?”
“An hour is struck on high,
But yet is no streak of light
In the solemn, starless sky;
Dark nor the dayspring breaketh,
The world is drowsed and dumb;
I sleep, but my heart waketh;
When will the Bridegroom come?”
“An hour is struck on high,
But yet is no streak of light
In the solemn, starless sky;
Dark nor the dayspring breaketh,
The world is drowsed and dumb;
I sleep, but my heart waketh;
When will the Bridegroom come?”
“He is gone up, O bride,
His Father's smile to see;
The wound is heal'd in His side,
He plants, for thy sake, a tree;
Thy speech on His tongue rings sweet,
His country is plain to view,
For He brought its dust on His feet,
His locks were wet with dew.”
His Father's smile to see;
The wound is heal'd in His side,
He plants, for thy sake, a tree;
Thy speech on His tongue rings sweet,
His country is plain to view,
For He brought its dust on His feet,
His locks were wet with dew.”
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“Wind of the South, awake!
And thou, O North wind, blow!
Move in my garden, and make
All my chief spices flow;
Bud, and bud, in the night,
Fruitful tree and fair flower,
Till, with shocks of instant light,
Sounds forth the Bridegroom's hour.
And thou, O North wind, blow!
Move in my garden, and make
All my chief spices flow;
Bud, and bud, in the night,
Fruitful tree and fair flower,
Till, with shocks of instant light,
Sounds forth the Bridegroom's hour.
“I have fed on holy food,
Thou breakest me bread divine;
The wine of Thy cup is good,
But Thy love is better than wine.
Lord, when Thou comest to sup,
I shall know how this can be,
For Thyself shall hold the cup,
I shall drink of it new with Thee.
Thou breakest me bread divine;
The wine of Thy cup is good,
But Thy love is better than wine.
Lord, when Thou comest to sup,
I shall know how this can be,
For Thyself shall hold the cup,
I shall drink of it new with Thee.
“Grant me, O Christ, the grace,
That present love to greet;
Fain would I see Thy face,
And lie at Thy sacred feet;
Fain would I hear Thy voice,
Speak the language of men
Then shall Thy bride rejoice,
Then, O never, till then.”
That present love to greet;
Fain would I see Thy face,
And lie at Thy sacred feet;
Fain would I hear Thy voice,
Speak the language of men
Then shall Thy bride rejoice,
Then, O never, till then.”
“Rise up, O bride, in the night,
Take thy lamp, and take oil,
Put on thy raiment white
The Bridegroom took for a spoil;
Prepare, let thy feet be shod,
For thy heart doth prophecy
Thy desire is born of God,
And is made thy destiny.”
Take thy lamp, and take oil,
Put on thy raiment white
The Bridegroom took for a spoil;
Prepare, let thy feet be shod,
For thy heart doth prophecy
Thy desire is born of God,
And is made thy destiny.”
| One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads | |