One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads Original, and suitable for music [by Jean Ingelow] |
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THE BROODING OF THE DOVE.
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 | One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads |  |
74
THE BROODING OF THE DOVE.
I.
“To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.”
Thou, when the dying Jesu bled,
Didst mourn upon Him hard bestead,
And when His Spirit He set free,
In death didst gather it to Thee,
And, folded to Thy hallow'd breast,
Didst bear it to a place of rest,
And show unto all saints that wait
In the country of souls separate.
Didst mourn upon Him hard bestead,
And when His Spirit He set free,
In death didst gather it to Thee,
And, folded to Thy hallow'd breast,
Didst bear it to a place of rest,
And show unto all saints that wait
In the country of souls separate.
There didst Thou move them, and they rose
At this great Coming, from repose;
Look'd on Love's advent, knew Love's claim,
And learn'd at last Love's mighty name;
While Aaron's priests, of Thee made wise,
Approached th' Eternal sacrifice;
And seers attain'd by Thee reveal'd
The mystery of their visions seal'd.
At this great Coming, from repose;
Look'd on Love's advent, knew Love's claim,
And learn'd at last Love's mighty name;
While Aaron's priests, of Thee made wise,
Approached th' Eternal sacrifice;
And seers attain'd by Thee reveal'd
The mystery of their visions seal'd.
Behold Him, erst so dimly shown,
One that was wounded of His own;
Behold Him, stricken for man's need,
The afflicted God, the woman's seed;
The Angel of the Presence dread
Who spake in dreams at their bed's head;
The Captain at His watch all night,
The wrestler until morning light.
One that was wounded of His own;
Behold Him, stricken for man's need,
The afflicted God, the woman's seed;
The Angel of the Presence dread
Who spake in dreams at their bed's head;
The Captain at His watch all night,
The wrestler until morning light.
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Day breaks, for now the wrestler stays—
The morning star reveals its rays;
A blest to-morrow waited long
Through eons dimm'd with evensong.
Among the ransom'd souls at rest
The Spirit of the Christ is blest,
And far and fast the shadow flies,
To-morrow dawns in Paradise.
The morning star reveals its rays;
A blest to-morrow waited long
Through eons dimm'd with evensong.
Among the ransom'd souls at rest
The Spirit of the Christ is blest,
And far and fast the shadow flies,
To-morrow dawns in Paradise.
The dying thief beholds that ray
For him the promised, blest “to-day;”
Light of all worlds whose earliest sheen
Is given to Hades “the unseen.”
Peace, peace, our song shall be of peace;
O, suffering Love, Thy troubles cease,
The holy dead receive the word,
And rest together with the Lord.
For him the promised, blest “to-day;”
Light of all worlds whose earliest sheen
Is given to Hades “the unseen.”
Peace, peace, our song shall be of peace;
O, suffering Love, Thy troubles cease,
The holy dead receive the word,
And rest together with the Lord.
| One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads | |