One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads Original, and suitable for music [by Jean Ingelow] |
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[Holy of Holies, forming Mind] |
 | One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads |  |
[Holy of Holies, forming Mind]
“There was a sound as of a mighty rushing wind, and it
filled all the house where they were met.”
Holy of Holies, forming Mind,
Not as a mighty rushing wind,
Thy great descent we look to greet,
And fill this house wherein we meet.
Not as a mighty rushing wind,
Thy great descent we look to greet,
And fill this house wherein we meet.
Not a refining fire to see,
As did Thy saints of Galilee;
But give the better grace to hold,
Thy coming dear as held of old.
As did Thy saints of Galilee;
But give the better grace to hold,
Thy coming dear as held of old.
They fasted, waited, pray'd for Thee,
Yet knew not what the gift would be;
And when Thy mighty presence came,
Amazed they wore the crowning flame.
Yet knew not what the gift would be;
And when Thy mighty presence came,
Amazed they wore the crowning flame.
102
We know—and seek not—we desire
Nor rushing wind nor falling fire;
We know, but ask a slender dole,
And lips and life deny the whole.
Nor rushing wind nor falling fire;
We know, but ask a slender dole,
And lips and life deny the whole.
He giveth to His Church no more
The gifts, she saith, bestow'd of yore;
But could she dare to fast, to pray
For such a dower in such a day.
The gifts, she saith, bestow'd of yore;
But could she dare to fast, to pray
For such a dower in such a day.
A gift once more to set apart,—
And close to her the world's kind heart—
Her world forgiven, her all too dear,
The sister she hath lived so near?
And close to her the world's kind heart—
Her world forgiven, her all too dear,
The sister she hath lived so near?
Yet, let her cry, “What have I done
I that have lost who might have won;
Let me no more Thy gifts restrain,
Albeit my heart they rend in twain.
I that have lost who might have won;
Let me no more Thy gifts restrain,
Albeit my heart they rend in twain.
“Give all Thou wilt give! Anger, scorn,
Yea fire, yea sword, yea lives forlorn
To follow if they must—yet give.
Set us apart, and let us live.
Yea fire, yea sword, yea lives forlorn
To follow if they must—yet give.
Set us apart, and let us live.
“False friends no more that falsely greet,
'Twere good to part, so best to meet;
A mighty church made strong to hold
The awaken'd world within her fold.”
'Twere good to part, so best to meet;
A mighty church made strong to hold
The awaken'd world within her fold.”
| One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads | |