The Land of Light and other Hymns of Faith and Hope ::

That clime is not like this dull clime of ours:
All, all is brightness there.
A sweeter influence breathes around its flowers,
And a far milder air.
No calm below is like that calm above,
No region here is like that realm of love;
Earth's softest spring ne'er shed so soft a light,
Earth's brightest summer never shone so bright.

That sky is not like this sad sky of ours,
Tinged with earth's change and care.
No shadow dims it, and no rain-cloud lowers
No broken sunshine there!
One everlasting stretch of azure pours
Its stainless splendour o'er those sinless shores,
For there Jehovah shines with heavenly ray,
There Jesus reigns, dispensing endless day.

Those dwellers there are not like these of earth,
No mortal stain they bear;
And yet they seem of kindred blood and birth,—
Whence, and how came they there?
Earth was their native soil; from sin and shame,
Through tribulation they to glory came;
Bond-slaves delivered from sin's crushing load,
Brands plucked from burning by the hand of God.

Those robes of theirs are not like these below;
No angel's half so bright!
Whence came that beauty, whence that living glow?
Whence came that radiant white?
Washed in the blood of the atoning Lamb,
Fair as the light those robes of theirs became.
And now, all tears wiped off from every eye,
They wander where the freshest pastures lie,
Through all the nightless day of that unfading sky!

HOME SICKNESS

And whence this weariness,
This gathering cloud of gloom?
Whence this dull weight of loneliness,
These greedy cravings for the tomb?

These greedier cravings for the hopes that lie
Beyond the tomb, beyond the things that die;
Beyond the smiles and joys that come and go,
Fevering the spirit with their fitful flow;
Beyond the circle where the shadows fall;
Within the region where my God is all.

It is not that I fear
To breast the storm or wrestle with the wave,
To swim the torrent or the blast to brave,
To toil or suffer in this day of strife,
As He may will who gave this struggling life;
But I am homesick!

It is not that the cross
Is heavier than this drooping frame can bear,
Or that I find no kindred heart to share
The burden, which, in these last days of ill,
Seems to press heavier, sharper, sorer still;
But I am homesick!

It is not that the snare
Is laid around for my unwary feet,
And that a thousand wily tempters greet
My slippery steps, and lead me far astray
From the safe guidance of the narrow way;
But I am homesick!

It is not that the path
Is rough and perilous, beset with foes,
From the first step down to its weary close,
Strewn with the flint, the briar, and the thorn,
That wound my limbs and leave my raiment torn;
But I am homesick!

It is not that the sky
Is darkly sad, and the unloving air
Chills me to fainting; and the clouds that there
Hang over me seem signal-clouds unfurled
Portending wrath to an unready world;
But I am homesick!

It is not that this earth
Has grown less bright and fair; that these grey hills,
These ever-lapsing, ever-lulling rills,
And these breeze-haunted woods, that ocean clear,
Have now become less beautiful, less dear;
But I am homesick!

Let me then weary be!
I shrink not, murmur not;
In all this homelessness I see
The Church's pilgrim lot:
Her lot until her absent Lord shall come,
And the long homeless here shall find a home.

Then no more weariness!
No gathering cloud of gloom;
Then no dull weight of loneliness,
No greedy cravings for the tomb:
For death shall then be swallowed up of life,
And the glad victory shall end the strife!

HEAVEN AT LAST

Angel-voices sweetly singing,
Echoes through the blue dome ringing,
News of wondrous gladness bringing:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Now, beneath us all the grieving,
All the wounded spirit's heaving,
All the woe of hopes deceiving:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Sin for ever left behind us;
Earthly visions cease to blind us,
Fleshly fetters cease to bind us:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

On the jasper threshold standing,
Like a pilgrim safely landing,
See, the strange bright scene expanding!
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

What a city! what a glory!
Far beyond the brightest story
Of the ages old and hoary:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Softest voices, silver-pealing,
Freshest fragrance, spirit-healing,
Happy hymns around us stealing:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Gone the vanity and folly,
Gone the dark and melancholy;
Come the joyous and the holy:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Not a broken blossom yonder,
Not a link can snap asunder;
Stayed the tempest, sheathed the thunder,
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Not a tear-drop ever falleth,
Not a pleasure ever palleth;
Song to song for ever calleth:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Christ Himself the living splendour,
Christ the sunlight mild and tender;
Praises to the Lamb we render:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Now at length the veil is rended,
Now the pilgrimage is ended,
And the saints their thrones ascended;
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Broken death's dread bands that bound us,
Life and victory around us;
Christ the King Himself hath crowned us:
Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

NO MORE SEA

Και η θαλασσα ουκ εστιν ετι, —Rev. xxi. I.

Summer Ocean, idly washing
This grey rock on which I lean;
Summer Ocean, broadly flashing
With thy hues of gold and green;
Gently swelling, wildly dashing
O'er yon island-studded scene;
Summer Ocean, how I'll miss thee,
Miss the thunder of thy roar,

Miss the music of thy ripple,
Miss thy sorrow-soothing shore,—
Summer Ocean, how I'll miss thee,
When “the sea shall be no more.”
Summer Ocean, how I'll miss thee,
As along thy strand I range;
Or as here I sit and watch thee
In thy moods of endless change,
Mirthful moods of morning gladness,
Musing moods of sunset sadness;
When the dying winds caress thee,
And the sinking sunbeams kiss thee,
And the crimson cloudlets press thee,
And all nature seems to bless thee!—
Summer Ocean, how I'll miss thee,
Miss the wonders of thy shore,
Miss the magic of thy grandeur,
When “the sea shall be no more.”

And yet sometimes in my musings,
When I think of what shall be;
In the day of earth's new glory,
Still I seem to roam by thee.
As if all had not departed,
But the glory lingered still;
As if that which made thee lovely,
Had remained unchangeable.
Only that which marred thy beauty,
Only that had passed away;
Sullen wilds of Ocean-moorland,
Bloated features of decay.
Only that dark waste of waters,
Line ne'er fathomed, eye ne'er scanned,
Only that shall shrink and vanish,
Yielding back the imprisoned land.
Yielding back earth's fertile hollows,
Long-submerged and hidden plains;
Giving up a thousand valleys
Of the ancient world's domains.

Leaving still bright azure ranges,
Winding round this rocky tower;
Leaving still yon gem-bright island,
Sparkling like an ocean flower.
Leaving still some placid stretches,
Where the sunbeams bathe at noon,
Leaving still some lake-like reaches,
Mirrors for the silver moon.
Only all of gloom and horror,
Idle wastes of endless brine,
Haunts of darkness, storm, and danger,—
These shall be no longer thine.
Backward ebbing, wave and ripple,
Wondrous scenes shall then disclose;
And, like earth's, the wastes of ocean
Then shall blossom as the rose.

THY WAY, NOT MINE

Thy way, not mine, O Lord,
However dark it be!
Lead me by Thine own hand,
Choose out the path for me.

Smooth let it be or rough,
It will be still the best;
Winding or straight, it leads
Right onward to Thy rest.

I dare not choose my lot;
I would not, if I might;
Choose Thou for me, my God,
So shall I walk aright.

The kingdom that I seek
Is Thine; so let the way
That leads to it be Thine,
Else I must surely stray.

Take Thou my cup, and it
With joy or sorrow fill,
As best to Thee may seem;
Choose Thou my good and ill.

Choose Thou for me my friends,
My sickness or my health;
Choose Thou my cares for me,
My poverty or wealth.

Not mine, not mine the choice,
In things or great or small;
Be Thou my guide, my strength,
My wisdom and my all.

THE EVERLASTING MEMORIAL

Up and away, like the dew of the morning,
Soaring from earth to its home in the sun;
So let me steal away, gently and lovingly,
Only remembered by what I have done.

My name, and my place, and my tomb, all forgotten,
The brief race of time well and patiently run;
So let me pass away, peacefully, silently,
Only remembered by what I have done.

Gladly away from this toil would I hasten,
Up to the crown that for me has been won,
Unthought of by man in rewards or in praises,
Only remembered by what I have done.

Up and away, like the odours of sunset,
That sweeten the twilight as darkness comes on;
So be my life, a thing felt but not noticed,
And I but remembered by what I have done.

Yes, like the fragrance that wanders in freshness,
When the flowers that it came from are closed up and gone,
So would I be to this world's weary dwellers,
Only remembered by what I have done.

Needs there the praise of the love-written record,
The name and the epitaph graved on the stone?
The things we have lived for, let them be our story,
We ourselves but remembered by what we have done.

I need not be missed, if my life has been bearing
(As its summer and autumn moved silently on)
The bloom, and the fruit, and the seed of its season;
I shall still be remembered by what I have done.

I need not be missed, if another succeed me
To reap down those fields which in spring I have sown;
He who ploughed and who sowed is not missed by the reaper,
He is only remembered by what he has done.

Not myself, but the truth that in life I have spoken,
Not myself, but the seed that in life I have sown,
Shall pass on to ages,—all about me forgotten,
Save the truth I have spoken, the things I have done.

So let my living be, so be my dying;
So let my name lie, unblazoned, unknown;
Unpraised and unmissed, I shall still be remembered;—
Yes, but remembered by what I have done.

HE LIVETH LONG WHO LIVETH WELL

He liveth long who liveth well!
All other life is short and vain;
He liveth longest who can tell
Of living most for heavenly gain.

He liveth long who liveth well!
All else is being flung away;
He liveth longest who can tell
Of true things truly done each day.

Waste not thy being; back to Him,
Who freely gave it, freely give,
Else is that being but a dream,
'Tis but to be, and not to live.

Be wise, and use thy wisdom well;
Who wisdom speaks must live it too;
He is the wisest who can tell
How first he lived, then spoke, the true.

Be what thou seemest; live thy creed;
Hold up to earth the torch divine;
Be what thou prayest to be made;
Let the great Master's steps be thine.

Fill up each hour with what will last;
Buy up the moments as they go;
The life above, when this is past,
Is the ripe fruit of life below.

Sow truth, if thou the true wouldst reap;
Who sows the false shall reap the vain;
Erect and sound thy conscience keep,
From hollow words and deeds refrain.

Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure;
Sow peace, and reap its harvest bright;
Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor,
And find a harvest-home of light.

ALL WELL

No seas again shall sever,
No desert intervene;
No deep, sad-flowing river
Shall roll its tide between.

No bleak cliffs, upward towering,
Shall bound our eager sight;
No tempest darkly lowering,
Shall wrap us in its night.

Love, and unsevered union
Of soul with those we love,
Nearness and glad communion,
Shall be our joy above.

No dread of wasting sickness,
No thought of ache or pain,
No fretting hours of weakness,
Shall mar our peace again.

No death, our homes o'ershading,
Shall e'er our harps unstring,
For all is life unfading,
In presence of our King.

EARTH'S BEAUTY

Where the wave murmurs not,
Where the gust eddies not,
Where the stream rushes not,
Where the cliff shadows not,
Where the wood darkens not,
I would not be!

Bright tho' the heavens were,
Rich tho' the flowers there,
Sweet tho' the fragrant air,
And all as Eden fair,
Yet as a dweller there
I would not be!
O wave, and breeze, and rill, and rock, and wood,
Was it not God Himself that called you Good?

OUR MINGLED LIFE

I. PART I

Bits of gladness and of sorrow,
Strangely crossed and interlaid,
Bits of cloud-belt and of rainbow,
In deep alternate braid;
Bits of storm, when winds are warring,
Bits of calm, when blasts are stayed;
Bits of silence and of uproar,
Bits of sunlight and of shade;
Bits of forest-smothered hollow,
And of open sunny glade;
Stripes of garden and of moorland,
Heath and rose together laid;
Serest leaf of brown October,
April's youngest, greenest blade.

Bits of day-spring and of sunset,
Of the midnight, of the noon;
Snow and ice of pale December,
Living flush of crimson June.
Sands of Egypt, fields of Sharon,
Rush of Jordan, sweep of Nile;
Wells of Marah, shades of Elim,
Sinai's frown, and Carmel's smile.
Depths of valley, peaks of mountain,
Stretch of verdure-loving plain;
Barren miles of ocean-shingle,
Fertile straths of smiling grain.
Broken shafts of Tyrian columns,
Rolled and worn by wave and time;
Miles of colonnade and grandeur,
Luxor's still majestic prime.

Truest music, jarring discord,
Voice of trumpet and of lute;
The thunder-shower's loud lashing,
And the dew-fall soft and mute.
Now the garland, now the coffin,
Now the wedding, now the tomb;
Now the festal shout of thousands,
Now the churchyard's lonely gloom.
Now the song above the living,
Now the chaunt above the dead;
The smooth smile of infant beauty,
Age's wan and furrowed head.

These are the mingled seeds,
Some flowers, some idle weeds,
Some crowded, some alone,
With which man's field is sown,
And from which springs the one
Great harvest of a life that can
Be lived but once by man!
With these,—the threads of hope and fear,
Of ill and good—thou weavest here,
O dweller in this fallen clime,
Thy portion of the web of time!
These are the stones with which, O man,
Thou build'st, too oft without a plan,
Life's lordly hall or lowly cot,
The Babel or the Salem of thy lot.

II. PART II

Days of fever and of fretting,
Hours of kind and blessed calm;
Boughs of cedar and of cypress,
Wreaths of olive and of palm.
Noons of musing, nights of dreaming,
Words of love, and ways of strife;
Tears of parting, smiles of meeting,
Paths of smooth and rugged life.
Moods of sinking, when the spirit,
Overstrained, is downward borne;
Moods of soaring, when our being
Springs elastic to the morn;
All the doing and undoing,
And the doing o'er again;
All the fastening and the loosing
Of the many-linkèd chain.

Bits of brightening and of darkening,
Bits of weariness and rest;
All the hoping and despairing
Of the full or hollow breast.
Bits of slumbering and of waking,
Heavy tossing to and fro;
Shreds of living and of dying,
Being's daily ebb and flow.
With these is life begun and closed,
Of these its strange mosaic is composed.
Such are our annals upon earth,
Our tale from very hour of birth,
The soul's time-history;
Yet of such changes is made up
The changeless mystery,
Now hidden from our eye,
Of man's eternity.

Eternity!—
The sum of time's brief numbers here,
Thyself unnumbered still;
The issue of all mortal change, thyself
Unchanged, unchangeable;
The fruit of what we daily feel and see,
Thyself unseen, invisible!
Formed out of many hues,
Or dark or bright,
Thyself uncoloured and unmixed,
All dark or light.

O wondrous day!—
God's day, not man's, as heretofore;
Christ's hour, not Satan's, as before;
When right shall all be might,
And might shall all be right;
And truth, for ages sorely tried,
By error mocked, reviled, defied,
No longer on the losing side,
Shall celebrate its victory,
And wave its ancient palm on high;
When good and ill unmixed
Flow on for ever.

Each in its distant channel fixed,
An everlasting river!
Where grief and joy, disjoined,
The true and false untwined,
Each to its destined place,
At the stern sentence, gone,
Shall dwell alone,
Each on its far-off shore,
And see each other's face
No more!

O wondrous day!
When things that are shall pass away!
Earth's skies take on their evening gloom,
And the great sunset come;
When, with far-echoing swell,
Like monarch's funeral knell,
The world's great vesper bell,—
Deeper than that by far,
Which, 'neath St. Saba's evening star,
Sounds over Sodom's sullen sea,
From the grey peaks of Engedi;
Or from red Sinai's fiery slope,
Like wail of earth's expiring hope,
Swings out in wild, slow-pealing strain,
Across Er-Rahah's sandy plain,—
Shall sound o'er earth, and tell
That the great Judge has come,
Long waiting at the door;
Come, too, the day of doom,
So long for man in store.

BEGIN WITH GOD

Begin the day with God!
He is thy sun and day;
He is the radiance of thy dawn,
To Him address thy lay.

Sing a new song at morn!
Join the glad woods and hills;
Join the fresh winds and seas and plains,
Join the bright flowers and rills.

Sing thy first song to God!
Not to thy fellow-man;
Not to the creatures of His hand,
But to the glorious One.

Awake, cold lips, and sing!
Arise, dull knees, and pray;
Lift up, O man, thy heart and eyes,
Brush slothfulness away.

Look up beyond these clouds!
Thither thy pathway lies;
Mount up, away, and linger not,
Thy goal is yonder skies.

Cast every weight aside!
Do battle with each sin;
Fight with the faithless world without,
The faithless heart within.

Take thy first meal with God!
He is thy heavenly food;
Feed with and on Him; He with thee
Will feast in brotherhood.

Take thy first walk with God!
Let Him go forth with thee;
By stream, or sea, or mountain-path,
Seek still His company.

Thy first transaction be
With God Himself above!
So shall thy business prosper well,
And all the day be love.

ARISE, SHINE, FOR THY LIGHT IS COME

Jerusalem,
Thy King at length has come!
Lift up thy voice in song,
No more be dumb.
Happy Jerusalem!
Thy widowhood is done;
Thy mourning days are past,
Thy joy begun.

Zion, rejoice!
Thy glory now returns;
Thy God has come, no more
His anger burns.
City of cities thou!
What beauty shall be thine;
Joy of the blessed earth,
Arise and shine!

Peace, Salem, peace
Be now within thy gates!
To thee earth crowds; on thee
Its grandeur waits.
Thou holy mount of God!
From thee once more ascends
The incense-cloud, the song
That never ends.

THE INNER CALM

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm,
While these hot breezes blow,
Be like the night-dew's cooling balm
Upon earth's fevered brow.

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm,
Soft resting on Thy breast,
Soothe me with holy hymn and psalm,
And bid my spirit rest.

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm;
Let Thine outstretchèd wing
Be like the shade of Elim's palm,
Beside her desert-spring.

Yes, keep me calm, tho' loud and rude
The sounds my ear that greet,
Calm in the closet's solitude,
Calm in the bustling street.

Calm in the hour of buoyant health,
Calm in my hour of pain,
Calm in my poverty or wealth,
Calm in my loss or gain.

Calm in the sufferance of wrong,
Like Him who bore my shame,
Calm 'mid the threatening, taunting throng,
Who hate Thy holy name.

Calm when the great world's news with power
My listening spirit stir;
Let not the tidings of the hour
E'er find too fond an ear.

Calm as the ray of sun or star,
Which storms assail in vain;
Moving unruffled thro' earth's war,
The eternal calm to gain.

THE BLESSING-CHAIN

He who in Christ believeth,
Is wise, is wise;
He who this Christ receiveth,
Alone is wise.

He who this wisdom winneth,
Is free, is free;
He in whose heart it reigneth,
Alone is free.

He who this freedom graspeth,
Is strong, is strong.
He who this freedom claspeth,
Alone is strong.

He who this strength retaineth,
Is good, is good;
He in whom it remaineth,
Alone is good.

He who this goodness findeth,
Is glad, is glad;
He who this goodness mindeth,
Alone is glad.

SANCTA THERESA

“Mihi oppidum carcer, et solitudo Paradisus est.”—Jerome.

“O quoties in eremo constitutus, putabam me Romanis interesse deliciis. . . Ille ego qui ob gehennae metum tali me carcere damnaveram, sæpe choris intereram puellarum. Pallebant ora jejuniis, et mens desideriis æstuabat, . . sola libidinum incendia bulliebant. Sunt qui humore cellularum, immoderatisque jejuniis, tædio solitudinis, ac nimia lectione, vertuntus in melancholiam.” —Idem.

This is no heaven!
And yet they told me that all heaven was here,
This life the foretaste of a life more dear;
That all beyond this convent-cell
Was but a fairer hell;
That all was ecstasy and song within,
That all without was tempest, gloom, and sin.
Ah me, it is not so;
This is no heaven, I know!

This is not rest!
And yet they told me that all rest was here,
Within these walls the medicine and the cheer
For broken hearts; that all without
Was trembling, weariness, and doubt:
This the sure ark which floats above the wave,
Strong in life's flood to shelter and to save;
This the still mountain-lake,
Which winds can never shake.
Ah me, it is not so;
This is not rest, I know!

This is not light!
And yet they told me that all light was here,
Light of the holier sphere;
That, through this lattice seen,
Clearer and more serene,
The clear stars ever shone,
Shining for me alone;
And the bright moon more bright,
Seen in the lone blue night
By ever-watching eyes,
The sun of convent-skies.
Ah me, it is not so;
This is not light, I know!

This is not love!
And yet they told me that all love was here,
Sweetening the silent atmosphere;
All green, without a faded leaf,
All smooth, without a fret, or cross, or grief;
Fresh as young May,
Yet calm as autumn's softest day;
No balm like convent-air,
No hues of Paradise so fair!
A jealous, peevish, hating world beyond;
Within, love's loveliest bond:
Envy and discord in the haunts of men;
Here, Eden's harmony again.
Ah me, it is not so;
Here is no love, I know!

This is not home!
And yet for this I left my girlhood's bower,
Shook the fresh dew from April's budding flower,
Cut off my golden hair,
Forsook the dear and fair,
And fled, as from a serpent's eyes,
Home and its holiest charities;
Instead of all things beautiful,
Took this decaying skull,
Hour after hour to feed my eye,
As if foul gaze like this could purify;
Broke the sweet ties that God had given,
And sought to win His heaven
By leaving home-work all undone,
The home-race all unrun.

The fair home-garden all untilled,
The home-affections all unfilled;
As if these common rounds of work and love
Were drags to one whose spirit soared above
Life's tame and easy circle, and who fain
Would earn her crown by self-sought toil and pain;
Led captive by a mystic power,
Dazzled by visions in the moody hour,
When, sick of earth, and self, and vanity,
I longed to be alone or die;
Mocked by my own self-brooding heart,
And plied with every wile and art
That could seduce a young and yearning soul
To start for some mysterious goal,
And seek, in cell or savage waste,
The cure of blighted hope and love misplaced.

Yet 'tis not the hard bed, nor lattice small,
Nor the dull damp of this cold convent wall;
'Tis not the frost on these thick prison-bars,
Nor the keen shiver of these wintry stars;
Not this coarse raiment, nor this coarser food,
Nor bloodless lip of withering womanhood:
'Tis not all these that make me sigh and fret,
'Tis something deeper yet—
The unutterable void within,
The dark fierce warfare with this heart of sin,
The inner bondage, fever, storm, and woe,
The hopeless conflict with my hellish foe,
'Gainst whom this grated lattice is no shield,
To whom this cell is victory's chosen field.

Here is no balm
For stricken hearts, no calm
For fevered souls, no cure
For minds diseased: the impure
Becomes impurer in this stagnant air;
My cell becomes my tempter and my snare;
And vainer dreams than e'er I dreamt before
Crowd in at its low door.
And have I fled, my God, from Thee,
From thy glad love and liberty,
And left the road where blessings fall like light,
For self-made by-paths shaded o'er with night?
Oh lead me back, my God,
To the forsaken road,
Life's common beat, that there,
Even in the midst of toil and care,
I may find Thee
And in Thy love be free!

THE OLD STORY

Come and hear the grand old story,
Story of the ages past,
All earth's annals far surpassing,
Story that shall ever last.
Noblest, truest,
Oldest, newest,
Fairest, rarest,
Saddest, gladdest,
That this earth has ever known.

Christ, the Father's Son eternal,
Once was born, a Son of man;
He who never knew beginning
Here on earth a life began.

Here in David's lowly city,
Tenant of the manger-bed,
Child of everlasting ages,
Mary's infant, lays His head.

There He lies, in mighty weakness,
David's Lord and David's Son,
Creature and Creator meeting,
Heaven and earth conjoined in one.

Here at Nazareth He dwelleth,
'Mid the sin of sinful men,
Sorrowful, forlorn, and hated,
And yet hating none again.

Here in Galilee He wanders,
Through its teeming cities moves,
Climbs its mountains, walks its waters,
Blesses, comforts, saves, and loves.

Words of truth and deeds of kindness,
Miracles of grace and might,
Scatter fragrance all around Him,
Shine with heaven's most glorious light.

In Gethsemane behold Him,
In the agony of prayer,
Kneeling, pleading, groaning, bleeding,
Soul and body prostrate there.

All alone He wrestles yonder,
Close beside Him stands the cup,
Bitterest cup that man e'er tasted;
Yet for us He drinks it up.

In the Roman hall behold Him
Stand at Pilate's judgment-seat,
Mocked and beaten, crowned and wounded;
Jew and Gentile join in hate.

On to Golgotha He hastens;
Yonder stands His cross of woe;
From His hands, and feet, and forehead,
See the precious life-blood flow.

Sinless, He our sin is bearing,
All our sorrows on Him lie,
And His stripes our wounds are healing,
God for man consents to die.

It is finished! See His body
Laid alone in Joseph's tomb;
'Tis for us He lieth yonder,
Prince of light enwrapped in gloom.

But in vain the grave has bound Him,
Death has barred its gate in vain:
See, for us the Saviour rises;
See, for us He bursts the chain.

Hear we then the grand old story,
True as God's all-faithful word,
Best of tidings to the guilty,
Of a dead and risen Lord.

The marriage-day
Has come; lift up thy head,
Put on thy bridal robe;
The feast is spread.

Shake off earth's dust,
And wash thy weary feet;
Arise, make haste, go forth,
The Bridegroom greet.

Sing the new song!
Thy triumph has begun;
Thy tears are wiped away,
Thy night is done!

ECCE HOMO!

Jesu, Saviour, Son of God,
Bearer of the sinner's load,

Breaker of the captive's chain,
Cleanser of the guilty's stain,

Thou the sinner's death hast died,
Thou for us wast crucified;

For our sin Thy flesh was torn,
Thou the penalty hast borne

Of our guilt, upon the tree,
Which the Father laid on thee!

Saviour, Surety, Lamb of God,
Thou hast bought us with Thy blood;

Thou hast wiped the debt away,
Nothing left for us to pay;

Nothing left for us to bear,
Nothing left for us to share,

But the pardon and the bliss,
But the love, the light, the peace.

I to Thee will look and live,
And, in looking, praises give.

Looking lightens, looking heals,
Looking all the gladness seals;

Looking breaks the binding chain,
Looking sets us free again;

Looking scatters all our night,
Makes our faces shine with light;

Looking quickens, strengthens, brings
Heavenly gladness on its wings!

Jesu, Saviour, Son of God,
Bearer of the sinner's load,

I would rise to Thee above,
I would look, and praise, and love;

Ever looking let me be
At the blood-besprinkled tree,

Blessing Thee with lip and soul,
While the endless ages roll.

THE MEETING-PLACE

Where the faded flower shall freshen,
Freshen never more to fade;
Where the shaded sky shall brighten,
Brighten never more to shade:
Where the sun-blaze never scorches;
Where the star-beams cease to chill;
Where no tempest stirs the echoes
Of the wood, or wave, or hill:
Where the morn shall wake in gladness,
And the noon the joy prolong,
Where the daylight dies in fragrance,
'Mid the burst of holy song:
Brother, we shall meet and rest
'Mid the holy and the blest!

Where no shadow shall bewilder,
Where life's vain parade is o'er,
Where the sleep of sin is broken,
And the dreamer dreams no more.
Where no bond is ever sundered;
Partings, claspings, sob and moan,
Midnight waking, twilight weeping,
Heavy noontide,—all are done:
Where the child has found its mother,
Where the mother finds the child,
Where dear families are gathered,
That were scattered on the wild:
Brother, we shall meet and rest
'Mid the holy and the blest!

Where the hidden wound is healed,
Where the blighted life re-blooms,
Where the smitten heart the freshness
Of its buoyant youth resumes:
Where the love that here we lavish
On the withering leaves of time,
Shall have fadeless flowers to fix on
In an ever spring-bright clime:
Where we find the joy of loving,
As we never loved before,
Loving on, unchilled, unhindered,
Loving once and evermore:
Brother, we shall meet and rest
'Mid the holy and the blest!

Where a blasted world shall brighten
Underneath a bluer sphere,
And a softer, gentler sunshine
Shed its healing splendour here:
Where earth's barren vales shall blossom,
Putting on their robe of green,
And a purer, fairer Eden
Be where only wastes have been:
Where a King in kingly glory,
Such as earth has never known,
Shall assume the righteous sceptre,
Claim and wear the holy crown:
Brother, we shall meet and rest
'Mid the holy and the blest.

USE ME

Make use of me, my God!
Let me not be forgot;
A broken vessel cast aside,
One whom Thou needest not.

I am Thy creature, Lord,
And made by hands divine;
And I am part, however mean,
Of this great world of Thine.

Thou usest all Thy works,
The weakest things that be;
Each has a service of its own,
For all things wait on Thee.

Thou usest the high stars,
The tiny drops of dew,
The giant peak and little hill:
My God, oh use me too!

Thou usest tree and flower,
The rivers vast and small,
The eagle great, the little bird
That sings upon the wall.

Thou usest the wide sea,
The little hidden lake,
The pine upon the Alpine cliff,
The lily in the brake.

The huge rock in the vale,
The sand-grain by the sea,
The thunder of the rolling cloud,
The murmur of the bee.

All things do serve Thee here,
All creatures great and small;
Make use of me, of me, my God,
The meanest of them all!

FORWARD

Shall this life of mine be wasted?
Shall this vineyard lie untilled?
Shall true joy pass by untasted,
And this soul remain unfilled?

Shall the God-given hours be scattered
Like the leaves upon the plain?
Shall the blossoms die unwatered
By the drops of heavenly rain?

Shall I see each fair sun waking,
And not feel it wakes for me?
Each glad morning brightly breaking,
And not feel it breaks for me?

Shall I see the roses blowing,
And not wish to bloom as they,
Holy fragrance round me throwing,
Luring others on the way?

Shall I hear the free bird singing
In the summer's stainless sky,
Far aloft its glad flight winging,
And not seek to soar as high?

Shall this heart still spend its treasures
On the things that fade and die?
Shall it court the hollow pleasures
Of bewildering vanity?

Shall these lips of mine be idle?
Shall I open them in vain?
Shall I not, with God's own bridle,
Their frivolities restrain?

Shall these eyes of mine still wander?
Or, no longer turned afar,
Fix a firmer gaze and fonder
On the bright and morning Star?

Shall these feet of mine, delaying,
Still in ways of sin be found,
Braving snares, and madly straying
On the world's bewitching ground?

No, I was not born to trifle
Life away in dreams or sin!
No, I must not, dare not stifle
Longings such as these within!

Swiftly moving, upward, onward,
Let my soul in faith be borne!
Calmly gazing, skyward, sunward,
Let my eye unshrinking turn!

Where the cross, God's love revealing,
Sets the fettered spirit free,
Where it sheds its wondrous healing,
There, my soul, thy rest shall be!

Then no longer idly dreaming,
Shall I fling my years away;
But, each precious hour redeeming,
Wait for the eternal day!

AT LAST!

At last!
The night is at an end,
The dawn comes softly up,
Clear as its own clear dew;
And weeping has gone out,
To let in only songs,
And everlasting joy.
At last! Amen!

At last!
The Prince of life has come,
The Church is glorified,
The sleepers have awoke,
The living have been changed;
Death has at last been slain,
And the grave spoiled for ever.
At last! Amen!

At last!
The curse is swept away,
The serpent-trail effaced;
The desert smiles with green,
And blossoms like the rose;
'Tis more than Eden now,
Earth has become as heaven.
At last! Amen!

At last!
Satan is bound in chains;
The Church's ancient foe,
Old enemy of Christ,
Has fallen, with all his hosts;
And Babylon the Great
Has sunk to rise no more.
At last! Amen!

At last!
Israel sits down in peace,
Jerusalem awakes;
Her King at length has come,
Messiah reigns in power;
The heavens rejoice and sing,
And earth once more is free.
At last! Amen!

BE STILL

Be still, my soul; Jehovah loveth thee;
Fret not nor murmur at thy weary lot;
Though dark and lone thy journey seems to be,
Be sure that thou art ne'er by Him forgot.
He ever loves; then trust Him, trust Him still;
Let all thy care be this, the doing of His will.

Thy hand in His, like fondest, happiest child,
Place thou, nor draw it for a moment thence;
Walk thou with Him, a Father reconciled,
Till in His own good time He call thee hence.
Walk with Him now; so shall thy way be bright,
And all thy soul be filled with His most glorious light.

Fight the good fight of faith, nor turn aside
Through fear of peril from or earth or hell;
Take to thee now the armour proved and tried,
Take to thee spear and sword; oh, wield them well;
So shalt thou conquer here, so win the day,
So wear the crown when this hard life has passed away.

Take courage! Faint not, though the foe be strong;
Christ is thy strength; He fighteth on thy side.
Swift be thy race; remember, 'tis not long,
The goal is near; the prize He will provide.
And then from earthly toil thou resteth ever;
Thy home on the fair banks of life's eternal river!

He comes with His reward; 'tis just at hand;
He comes in glory to His promised throne.
My soul, rejoice; ere long thy feet shall stand
Within the city of the Blessed One.
Thy perils past, thy heritage secure,
Thy tears all wiped away, thy joy for ever sure!

ADVENT

The Church has waited long
Her absent Lord to see;
And still in loneliness she waits,
A friendless stranger she.
Age after age has gone,
Sun after sun has set,
And still, in weeds of widowhood,
She weeps a mourner yet.
Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

Saint after saint on earth
Has lived, and loved, and died;
And as they left us one by one,
We laid them side by side.
We laid them down to sleep,
But not in hope forlorn,
We laid them but to ripen there,
Till the last glorious morn.
Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

The serpent's brood increase,
The powers of hell grow bold,
The conflict thickens, faith is low,
And love is waxing cold.
How long, O Lord our God,
Holy and true and good,
Wilt Thou not judge Thy suffering Church,
Her sighs and tears and blood?
Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

We long to hear Thy voice,
To see Thee face to face,
To share Thy crown and glory then,
As now we share Thy grace.
Should not the loving bride
The absent Bridegroom mourn?
Should she not wear the weeds of grief
Until her Lord return?
Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

The whole creation groans,
And waits to hear that voice,
That shall restore her comeliness,
And make her wastes rejoice.
Come, Lord, and wipe away
The curse, the sin, the stain,
And make this blighted world of ours
Thine own fair world again.
Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

A LITTLE WHILE

Beyond the smiling and the weeping
I shall be soon;
Beyond the waking and the sleeping,
Beyond the sowing and the reaping,
I shall be soon.
Love, rest, and home!
Sweet hope!
Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the blooming and the fading
I shall be soon;
Beyond the shining and the shading,
Beyond the hoping and the dreading,
I shall be soon.
Love, rest, and home!
Sweet hope!
Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the rising and the setting
I shall be soon!
Beyond the calming and the fretting,
Beyond remembering and forgetting,
I shall be soon.
Love, rest, and home!
Sweet hope!
Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the gathering and the strewing
I shall be soon!
Beyond the ebbing and the flowing,
Beyond the coming and the going,
I shall be soon.
Love, rest, and home!
Sweet hope!
Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the parting and the meeting
I shall be soon!
Beyond the farewell and the greeting,
Beyond this pulse's fever beating,
I shall be soon.
Love, rest, and home!
Sweet hope!
Lord, tarry not, but come.

Beyond the frost-chain and the fever
I shall be soon!
Beyond the rock-waste and the river,
Beyond the ever and the never,
I shall be soon.
Love, rest, and home!
Sweet hope!
Lord, tarry not, but come.

TIME AND ETERNITY

It is not time that flies;
'Tis we, 'tis we are flying:
It is not life that dies;
'Tis we, 'tis we are dying.
Time and eternity are one;
Time is eternity begun:
Life changes, yet without decay;
'Tis we alone who pass away.

It is not truth that flies;
'Tis we, 'tis we are flying:
It is not faith that dies;
'Tis we, 'tis we are dying.
O ever-during faith and truth,
Whose youth is age, whose age is youth,
Twin stars of immortality,
Ye cannot perish from our sky!

It is not hope that flies;
'Tis we, 'tis we are flying:
It is not love that dies;
'Tis we, 'tis we are dying.
Twin streams, that have in heaven your birth,
Ye glide in gentle joy through earth:
We fade like flowers beside you sown;
Ye are still flowing, flowing on.

Yet we but die to live;
It is from death we're flying:
For ever lives our life;
For us there is no dying.
We die but as the spring-bud dies,
In summer's golden glow to rise:
These be our days of April bloom;
Our July is beyond the tomb.

REDEEM THE TIME

Death worketh,
Let me work too;
Death undoeth,
Let me do.
Busy as death my work I ply,
Till I rest in the rest of eternity.

Time worketh,
Let me work too;
Time undoeth,
Let me do.
Busy as time my work I ply,
Till I rest in the rest of eternity.

Sin worketh,
Let me work too;
Sin undoeth,
Let me do.
Busy as sin my work I ply,
Till I rest in the rest of eternity.

LIGHT'S TEACHINGS

The light is ever silent;
It calls up voices over sea and earth,
And fills the glowing air with harmonies—
The lark's gay chant, the note of forest-dove,
The lamb's quick bleat, and the bee's earnest hum,
The sea-bird's wingèd wail upon the wave.
It wakes the voice of childhood, soft and clear,
The city's noisy rush, the village stir,
And the world's mighty murmur, that had sunk
For a short hour to sleep upon the down
That darkness spreads for wearied limbs and eyes.

But still it sounds not, speaks not, whispers not,
Not one faint throb of its vast pulse is heard
By creature ear. How silent is the light!
Even when of old it waken'd Memnon's lyre,
It breathed no music of its own; and still,
When at sweet sunrise, on its golden wings,
It brings the melodies of dawn to man,
It scatters them in silence o'er the earth.

The light is ever silent;
It sparkles on morn's million gems of dew,
It flings itself into the shower of noon,
It weaves its gold into the cloud of sunset,
Yet not a sound is heard; it dashes full
On yon broad rock, yet not an echo answers;
It lights in myriad drops upon the flower,
Yet not a blossom stirs; it does not move
The slightest film of floating gossamer,
Which the faint touch of insect's wing would shiver.

The light is ever silent;
Most silent of all heavenly silences;
Not even the darkness stiller, nor so still;
Too swift for sound or speech, it rushes on,
Right through the yielding skies, a massive flood
Of multitudinous beams; an endless sea,
That flows but ebbs not, breaking on the shore
Of this dark earth with never-ceasing wave,
Giving less sound than does one falling blossom,
Which the May breeze lays lightly on the sward.

Such let my life be here;
Not marked by noise, but by success alone;
Not known by bustle, but by useful deeds,
Quiet and gentle, clear and fair as light;
Yet full of its all-penetrating power,
Its silent but resistless influence;
Making no needless sound, yet ever working,
Hour after hour, upon a needy world!

Sunshine is ever calm;
There are no tempests in yon sea of beams,
That bright Pacific on whose peaceful bosom
All happy things come floating down to us.
Light has no hurricane, no angry blast,
No turbid torrent laying waste our plains.
Morn after morn goes by, and the fresh light
Pours in upon the darkness, yet no storm
Awakes, no eddy stirs the tranquil glow;
No crested billow rises, and no foam,
Drifting along, tells of some tumult past.

Sunshine is ever strong;
No blast can break or bend one single ray;
In seven-fold strength it faces wave and wind;
Heedless of their opposing turbulence,
It passes through them in its quiet power
Unruffled, and unbroken, and unbent.
No might of armies, and no rage of storms,
Can turn aside one sunbeam from its path,
Or bate its speed, or force it back again
To the far fountainhead from whence it came.

Sunshine is ever pure;
No art of man can rob it of its beauty,
Nor stain its unpolluted heavenliness.
It is the fairest, purest thing in nature;
Fit type of that fair heaven where all is pure,
And into which no evil thing can enter;
Where darkness comes not, where no shadow falls,
Where night and sin can have no dwelling-place.

Sunshine is ever joyous;
Its birthplace is in yon bright orb, which flings
O'er cliff and vale its wealth of rosy smiles.
Each sunbeam seems the very soul of joy;
No sadness soils it; scattering gladsomeness,
Like a bright angel, onward still it moves.
The very churchyard brightens as the ray
Alights upon its tombstones, and the turf
Seems strangely heaving to the radiant glow,
As if fore-dating the expected sunrise,
When, at the first gleam of the Morning-star,
The faithful grave shall render up its treasure,
And sunshine, such as earth has never known,
Shall fill these skies with mirth, and smiles, and beauty,
Erasing each sad wrinkle from their brow,
Which the long curse had deeply graven there.

NOT NOW

Days come and go,
In joy or woe;
Days go and come,
In endless sum.
Only the eternal day
Shall come but never go,
Only the eternal tide
Shall never ebb but flow.
O long eternity,
My soul goes forth to thee!

Suns set and rise
In these dull skies;
Suns rise and set,
Till men forget
The day is at the door,
When they shall rise no more.
O everlasting Sun,
Whose race is never run,
Be Thou my endless light,
Then shall I fear no night!

QUIS SEPARABIT?

'Tis thus they press the hand and part,
Thus have they bid farewell again;
Yet still they commune, heart with heart,
Linked by a never-broken chain.

Still one in life and one in death,
One in their hope of rest above;
One in their joy, their trust, their faith,
One in each other's faithful love.

Yet must they part, and parting, weep;
What else has earth for them in store?
These farewell pangs, how sharp and deep;
These farewell words, how sad and sore!

Yet shall they meet again in peace,
To sing the song of festal joy,
Where none shall bid their gladness cease,
And none their fellowship destroy.

Where none shall beckon them away,
Nor bid their festival be done;
Their meeting-time the eternal day,
Their meeting-place the eternal throne.

There, hand in hand, firm linked at last,
And, heart to heart, enfolded all,
They'll smile upon the troubled past,
And wonder why they wept at all.

Then let them press the hand and part,
The dearly loved, the fondly loving,
Still, still in spirit and in heart,
The undivided, unremoving.

ABIDE WITH US

Luke xxiv. 29

'Tis evening now!
O Saviour, wilt not Thou
Enter my home and heart,
Nor ever hence depart,
Even when the morning breaks,
And earth again awakes?
Thou wilt abide with me,
And I with Thee!

The world is old!
Its air grows dull and cold;
Upon its aged face
The wrinkles come apace;
Its western sky is wan,
Its youth and joy are gone.
O Master, be our light,
When o'er us falls the night.

Evil is round!
Iniquities abound;
Our cottage will be lone,
When the great Sun is gone.
O Saviour, come and bless;
Come, share our loneliness;
We need a comforter,
Take up Thy dwelling here.

A CHILD'S PRAYER

“They that seek me early shall find me.”
—Prov. viii. 17.

Holy Father! hear my cry,
Holy Saviour! bend Thine ear,
Holy Spirit! come Thou nigh:
Father, Saviour, Spirit, hear.

Father, save me from my sin,
Saviour, I Thy mercy crave,
Gracious Spirit, make me clean:
Father, Son, and Spirit, save.

Father, let me taste Thy love,
Saviour, fill my soul with peace,
Spirit, come my heart to move:
Father, Son, and Spirit, bless.

Father, Son, and Spirit,—Thou
One Jehovah, shed abroad
All Thy grace within me now;
Be my Father and my God.

100

A PILGRIM'S SONG

A few more years shall roll,
A few more seasons come,
And we shall be with those that rest,
Asleep within the tomb.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that great day;
O wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

A few more suns shall set
O'er these dark hills of time,
And we shall be where suns are not,
A far serener clime.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that blest day;
O wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

101

A few more storms shall beat
On this wild rocky shore,
And we shall be where tempests cease,
And surges swell no more.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that calm day;
O wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

A few more struggles here,
A few more partings o'er,
A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that bright day;
O wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

102

A few more Sabbaths here
Shall cheer us on our way,
And we shall reach the endless rest,
The eternal Sabbath-day.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that sweet day;
O wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

'Tis but a little while,
And He shall come again,
Who died that we might live, who lives
That we with Him may reign.
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that glad day;
O wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

103

BE TRUE

Thou must be true thyself,
If thou the truth wouldst teach;
Thy soul must overflow, if thou
Another's soul wouldst reach!
It needs the overflow of heart
To give the lips full speech.

Think truly, and thy thoughts
Shall the world's famine feed;
Speak truly, and each word of thine
Shall be a fruitful seed;
Live truly, and thy life shall be
A great and noble creed.

104

LOST BUT FOUND

I was a wandering sheep,
I did not love the fold;
I did not love my Shepherd's voice,
I would not be controlled.
I was a wayward child,
I did not love my home;
I did not love my Father's voice,
I loved afar to roam.

The Shepherd sought His sheep,
The Father sought His child;
They followed me o'er vale and hill,
O'er deserts waste and wild.
They found me nigh to death,
Famished, and faint, and lone;
They bound me with the bands of love,
They saved the wandering one!

105

They spoke in tender love,
They raised my drooping head;
They gently closed my bleeding wounds,
My fainting soul they fed.
They washed my filth away,
They made me clean and fair;
They brought me to my home in peace,—
The long-sought wanderer!

Jesus my Shepherd is,
'Twas He that loved my soul,
'Twas He that washed me in His blood,
'Twas He that made me whole.
'Twas He that sought the lost,
That found the wandering sheep,
'Twas He that brought me to the fold,
'Tis He that still doth keep.

106

I was a wandering sheep,
I would not be controlled;
But now I love my Shepherd's voice,
I love, I love the fold!
I was a wayward child,
I once preferred to roam;
But now I love my Father's voice,
I love, I love His home.

SMOOTH EVERY WAVE

Smooth every wave this heart within;
Let no dark tempest gather there;
Calm every ripple, till my sea
Be, like the polished silver, fair.

One word of old stilled raging wind,
And “Peace, be still!” subdued the wave;
Let that dear word again be heard,
And let the tempest cease to rave.

Jesu! Thy word is mighty still;
Creation knows it; let this heart
Know it in all its grace and power,
Till every tumult thence depart.

107

GONE BEFORE

Thou art in heaven, and I am still on earth;
'Tis years, long years since we were parted here;
I still a wanderer, amid grief and fear,
And thou the tenant of a brighter sphere.
Yet still thou seemest near;
But yesterday it seems
Since the last clasp was given,
Since our lips met,
And our eyes looked into each other's depths.

108

Thou art amid the deathless, I still here
Amid things mortal, in a land of graves,
A land o'er which the heavy-beating waves
Of changing time move on, a land where raves
The storm, which whoso braves
Must have his anchor fixed
Firmly within the veil:
So let my anchor be;
Such be my consolation and my hope!

109

Thou art amid the sorrowless, I here
Amid the sorrowing; and yet not long
Shall I remain 'mid sin, and fear, and wrong;
Soon shall I join you in your sinless song.
The day has come, not gone;
Thy sun has risen, not set;
Thy life is now beyond
The reach of death or change,
Not ended, but begun.
Such shall our life be soon;
And then,—the meeting day,
How full of light and joy!
All fear of change cast out,
All shadows passed away,
The union sealed for ever
Between us and our Lord.

110

THE CLOUDLESS

No shadows yonder!
All light and song;
Each day I wonder,
And say, How long
Shall time me sunder
From that dear throng?

No weeping yonder!
All fled away;
While here I wander
Each weary day;
And sigh as I ponder
My long, long stay.

No partings yonder!
Time and space never
Again shall sunder;
Hearts cannot sever;
Dearer and fonder
Hands clasp for ever.

None wanting yonder,
Bought by the Lamb!
All gathered under
The ever-green palm;
Loud as night's thunder
Ascends the glad psalm.

111

ARISE AND DEPART

Brethren, arise,
Let us go hence!
Defiled, polluted thus,
This is no home for us;
Till earth is purified,
We may not here abide.
We were not born for earth:
The city of our birth,
The better paradise,
Is far above these skies.
Upward then let us soar,
Cleaving to dust no more!

112

Brethren, arise,
Let us go hence!
Death and the grave are here,
The sick-bed and the bier.
The children of the tomb
May love this kindred gloom;
But we, the deathless band,
Must seek the deathless land.
The mortal here may rove,
The immortal dwell above.
Here we can only die,
Let us ascend on high.

113

Brethren, arise,
Let us go hence!
For we are weary here.
The ever-falling tear,
The ever-swelling sigh,
The sorrow ever nigh,
The sin still flowing on,
Creation's ceaseless groan,
The tumult near and far,
The universal war,
The sounds that never cease.
These are our weariness!

114

Brethren, arise,
Let us go hence!
This is not our abode;
Too far, too far from God!
The angels dwell not here.
There falls not on the ear
The everlasting song,
From the celestial throng.
'Tis discord here alone,
Earth's melody is gone;
Her harp lies broken now,
Her praise has ceased to flow!

115

Brethren, arise,
Let us go hence!
The new Jerusalem,
Like a resplendent gem,
Sends down its heavenly light,
Attracting our dull sight.
I see the bright ones wait
At each fair pearly gate;
I hear their voices call;
I see the jasper wall,
The clear translucent gold,
The glory all untold!

116

Brethren, arise,
Let us go hence!
What are earth's joys and gems?
What are its diadems?
Our crowns are waiting us
Within our Father's house,
Our friends above the skies
Are bidding us arise;
Our Lord, He calls away
To scenes of sweeter day
Than this sad earth can know,
Let us arise and go!

117

THE ROD

I weep, but do not yield,
I mourn, yet still rebel;
My inmost soul seems steeled,
Cold and immoveable.

The wound is sharp and deep,
My spirit bleeds within;
And yet I lie asleep,
And still I sin, I sin.

My bruisèd soul complains
Of stripes without, within;
I feel these piercing pains,
Yet still I sin, I sin.

118

O'er me the low cloud hung
Its weight of shade and fear,
Unmoved I passed along,
And still my sin is here.

Yon massive mountain-peak
The lightning rends at will;
The rock can melt or break,
I am unbroken still.

My sky was once noon-bright,
My day was calm the while;
I loved the pleasant light,
The sunshine's happy smile.

I said, My God, oh, sure,
This love will kindle mine;
Let but this calm endure,
Then all my heart is Thine.

119

Alas, I knew it not!
The summer flung its gold
Of sunshine o'er my lot,
And yet my heart was cold.

Trust me with prosperous days,
I said, Oh, spare the rod;
Thee and Thy love I'll praise,
My gracious, patient God.

Must I be smitten, Lord?
Are gentler measures vain?
Must I be smitten, Lord?
Can nothing save but pain?

Thou trustedst me a while;
Alas! I was deceived;
I revelled in the smile,
Yet to the dust I cleaved.

120

Then the fierce tempest broke,
I knew from whom it came;
I read in that sharp stroke
A Father's hand and name.

And yet I did Thee wrong;
Dark thoughts of Thee came in;
A froward, selfish throng,—
And I allowed the sin!

I did Thee wrong, my God,
I wronged Thy truth and love,
I fretted at the rod,
Against Thy power I strove.

I said, My God, at length
This stony heart remove,
Deny all other strength,
But give me strength to love.

121

Come nearer, nearer still,
Let not Thy light depart;
Bend, break this stubborn will,
Dissolve this iron heart.

Less wayward let me be,
More pliable and mild;
In glad simplicity
More like a trustful child.

Less, less of self each day,
And more, my God, of Thee;
Oh, keep me in the way,
However rough it be.

Less of the flesh each day,
Less of the world and sin;
More of Thy Son, I pray,
More of Thyself within.

122

Riper and riper now
Each hour let me become,
Less fit for scenes below,
More fit for such a home.

More moulded to Thy will,
Lord, let Thy servant be,
Higher and higher still,
Liker and liker Thee.

Leave nought that is unmeet;
Of all that is mine own
Strip me, and so complete
My training for the throne.

123

THE LOVE OF GOD

O love that casts out fear,
O love that casts out sin,
Tarry no more without,
But come and dwell within.

True sunlight of the soul,
Surround me as I go;
So shall my way be safe,
My feet no straying know.

Great love of God, come in,
Well-spring of heavenly peace;
Thou Living Water, come,
Spring up, and never cease.

Love of the living God,
Of Father and of Son,
Love of the Holy Ghost,
Fill thou each needy one.

Praise to the Father give,
The Spirit and the Son;
Praise for the mighty love
Of the great Three in One.

124

LAUS DEO

Everlasting praises
To the Father be!
Everlasting praises
To the Saviour be!
Everlasting praises
To the Spirit be!
Everlasting praises
To the blessed Trinity!

Everlasting praises
For the Father's love!
Everlasting praises
For the Saviour's love!
Everlasting praises
For the Spirit's love!
Everlasting praises
To the Three-One God of love!

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THE LAND OF LIGHT