The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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July 3
EARTH'S OFFERING |
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The Prisoner of Love | ||
221
July 3 EARTH'S OFFERING
“Let the whole earth be filled with his glory.”—Ps. lxxii. 19.
Earth everywhere hath worship sweet,
Some holy leaven,
Some little heaven
That lies about the Father's Feet;
At noon goes up the incense bright,
Through night, and from the whole Creation—
God never needs a congregation,
And does not miss an altar light.
When beasts and wingèd words are mute,
Lo, from a thousand woods and rivers
Rings out the tale how Love delivers—
No leaf but is a tinkling lute.
Some holy leaven,
Some little heaven
That lies about the Father's Feet;
At noon goes up the incense bright,
Through night, and from the whole Creation—
God never needs a congregation,
And does not miss an altar light.
When beasts and wingèd words are mute,
Lo, from a thousand woods and rivers
Rings out the tale how Love delivers—
No leaf but is a tinkling lute.
O let us not disdain to do
Our best by living
Each day thanksgiving,
And chant with birds and breezes too;
That we may find in grateful parts
A balm for all our work and weeping,
While of His Goodness God is keeping
Perpetual summer in our hearts.
And we shall hear above our pain
In every bosom,
With hopes that blossom,
God's Sunday bells' eternal strain.
Our best by living
Each day thanksgiving,
And chant with birds and breezes too;
That we may find in grateful parts
A balm for all our work and weeping,
While of His Goodness God is keeping
Perpetual summer in our hearts.
And we shall hear above our pain
In every bosom,
With hopes that blossom,
God's Sunday bells' eternal strain.
The Prisoner of Love | ||