The Reliquary By Bernard and Lucy Barton. With A Prefatory Appeal for Poetry and Poets |
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“THANKS BE UNTO GOD FOR HIS UNSPEAKABLE GIFT
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 | The Reliquary |  |
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“THANKS BE UNTO GOD FOR HIS UNSPEAKABLE GIFT .”
Come tune the harp and let us sing
Our heart-felt praise to Israel's King;
To Him who dwells in heaven on high,
Yet bends to hear the contrite sigh.
Our heart-felt praise to Israel's King;
To Him who dwells in heaven on high,
Yet bends to hear the contrite sigh.
When earth-born monarch, rich in state,
Stoops to console the desolate,
The heart is gladden'd thus to see,
Soft blending, pow'r and sympathy.
Stoops to console the desolate,
The heart is gladden'd thus to see,
Soft blending, pow'r and sympathy.
When sorrow casts her sable veil
O'er dwellers in life's stormy dale,
How sweet a gift to heal the smart,
Is sympathy of heart with heart!
O'er dwellers in life's stormy dale,
How sweet a gift to heal the smart,
Is sympathy of heart with heart!
It lights with joy the dungeon's gloom,
Cheers with its beams the sufferer's doom;
Sheds rays of light around the bed
Where aching droops the weary head.
Cheers with its beams the sufferer's doom;
Sheds rays of light around the bed
Where aching droops the weary head.
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To all the scenes which fill the span
Of life allotted here to man,
It lends its unobtrusive power,
Alike in joy's or sorrow's hour.
Of life allotted here to man,
It lends its unobtrusive power,
Alike in joy's or sorrow's hour.
Bright are the gifts in mercy sent,
To cheer us in our banishment;
Alas! shall we ungrateful prove,
And lavish on them all our love?
To cheer us in our banishment;
Alas! shall we ungrateful prove,
And lavish on them all our love?
For dear, alluring as they seem,
They are but like the midnight dream,
Which vanishes at break of day,
Before the sun's all-piercing ray.
They are but like the midnight dream,
Which vanishes at break of day,
Before the sun's all-piercing ray.
There is a “Gift,” there is a Gem,
The brightest in God's diadem;
Which tells of boundless love to man,
Points to the soul the Gospel-plan.
The brightest in God's diadem;
Which tells of boundless love to man,
Points to the soul the Gospel-plan.
Enshrined in light's intensest beam,
That Gem most “Wonderful” doth seem;
One ray from thence hath power to dart
A healing balm to every heart.
That Gem most “Wonderful” doth seem;
One ray from thence hath power to dart
A healing balm to every heart.
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For this we tune our harps to praise!
For this the gladsome notes we raise!
That e'er our guilty race was run,
God gave for us His Only Son.
For this the gladsome notes we raise!
That e'er our guilty race was run,
God gave for us His Only Son.
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