 | Songs for Sufferers |  |
32
GOD'S CANDLE.
My candle the Shechinah is; I mark
The rainbow of the Throne about it,
Resplendent in the mystery of the dark;
While angel voices bid me hush and hark,
God is my lamp—there's none without it.
The ministering hand, that makes my bed,
Is that whereby the sun and moon are sped.
The rainbow of the Throne about it,
Resplendent in the mystery of the dark;
While angel voices bid me hush and hark,
God is my lamp—there's none without it.
The ministering hand, that makes my bed,
Is that whereby the sun and moon are sped.
My very prayers and thoughts are angels bent
On deeds of beauty and of kindness,
They cannot be in their own glory pent;
But go on paths of light and pity sent,
Bodied in mercy to our blindness.
The curtained spark, the secret glow-worm ray,
Is but the passage of my Lord's highway.
On deeds of beauty and of kindness,
They cannot be in their own glory pent;
But go on paths of light and pity sent,
Bodied in mercy to our blindness.
The curtained spark, the secret glow-worm ray,
Is but the passage of my Lord's highway.
It spreads around me as a wall of fire
No evil thing can pass or enter,
Where pure delight is one with pure desire;
And only they who serve in white attire
Can see the Cross, that is the centre.
Infinity is crowded in the niche,
That with the eternal is enclosed and rich.
No evil thing can pass or enter,
Where pure delight is one with pure desire;
And only they who serve in white attire
Can see the Cross, that is the centre.
Infinity is crowded in the niche,
That with the eternal is enclosed and rich.
| Songs for Sufferers | |