The Lord is come! In Him we trace
The fulness of God's truth and grace;
Throughout those words and acts Divine
Gleams of the eternal splendour shine;
And from His inmost Spirit flow,
As from a height of sunlit snow,
The rivers of perennial life,
To heal and sweeten Nature's strife.
The Lord is come! In every heart,
Where truth and mercy claim a part;
In every land where right is might,
And deeds of darkness shun the light;
In every Church, where faith and love'
Lift earthward thoughts to things above;
In every holy, happy home,
We bless Thee, Lord, that Thou hast come !
A. P. Stanley.
I a summer Galilee,
T fell upon a summer day,
The mothers of the village brought
Their children to His knee.
He took them in His arms, and laid
His hands on each remembered head;
"Suffer these little ones to come
To Me," He gently said.
"Forbid them not; unless ye bear
The childish heart your hearts within,
Unto My Kingdom ye may come,
But may not enter in."
Master, I fain would enter there;
Oh let me follow Thee, and share
Thy meek and lowly heart, and be
Freed from all worldly care.
Of innocence, and love, and trust,
Of quiet work, and simple word,
Of joy, and thoughtlessness of self
Build up my life, good Lord.
All happy thoughts, and gentle ways,
And loving-kindness daily given,
And freedom through obedience gained,
Make in my heart Thine heaven.
And all the wisdom that is born
Of joy and love that question not,
The child's bright vision of the earth,
Be mine, O Lord, unsought.
Oh, happy thus to live and move!
And sweet this world, where I shall find God's beauty everywhere, His love, His good in all mankind.
Then, Father, grant this childlike heart,
That I may come to Christ, and feel
His hands on me in blessing laid,
So pure, so strong to heal.
So when, far fled from earth, I come
Before Thee, happy and forgiven,
The heavenly host may cry with joy,
"A child is born in heaven."
MMORTAL Love, for ever full,
For ever flowing free,
For ever shared, for ever whole,
A never-ebbing sea!
Our outward lips confess the Name
All other names above;
Love only knoweth whence it came,
And comprehendeth love.
We may not climb the heavenly steeps
To bring the Lord Christ down:
In vain we search the lowest deeps,
For Him no depths can drown.
In joy of inward peace or sense
Of sorrow over sin,
He is His own best evidence
His witness is within.
The healing of His seamless dress
Is by our beds of pain;
We touch Him in life's throng and press,
And we are whole again.
O Lord and Master of us all,
Whate'er our name or sign,
We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call,
We test our lives by Thine.
"MASTER, it is good to be
High on the mountain here with Thee:"
Here in the ampler, purer air,
Above the stir of toil and care,
Of heart's distraught with doubt and fear,
Believing in their unbelief,
Calling Thy servants all in vain,
To ease them of their bitter pain.
"Master, it is good to be
Where rest the souls that talk with Thee:
Where stand revealed to mortal gaze
The great old saints of other days,
Who once received on Horeb's height
The eternal laws of truth and light,
Or caught the still small whisper higher
Than storm, than earthquake, or than fire.
"Master, it is good to be
With Thee, and with Thy faithful Three: "
Here, where the Apostle's heart of rock
Is nerved against temptations shock;
Here, where the Son of thunder learns
The thought that breathes and word that burns;
Here where on eagle's wings we move
With Him whose last best creed is Love.
"Master, it is good to be
Entranced, enwrapt, alone with Thee;"
Watching the glistening raiment glow,
Whiter than Hermon's whitest snow,
The human lineaments that shine,
Irradiant with a light Divine,
Till we too change from grace to grace,
Gazing on that transfigured face.
"Master, it is good to be
In life's worst anguish close to Thee;"
Within the overshadowing crowd
Which wraps us in its awful shroud :
We wist not what to think or say,
Our spirits sink in sore dismay,
They tell us of the dread "Decease,"
But yet to linger here is peace.
“Master, it is good to be
Here on the Holy Mount with Thee:"
When darkling in the depths of night,
When dazzled with excess of light,
We bow before the heavenly voice,
That bids bewildered souls rejoice,
Though love wax cold and faith be dim,
"This is my Son, O hear ye Him."
LONG did roam afar from home,
My proud heart could not guide me,
Till the King of heaven sent down
One to walk beside me.
No glory shone His way upon,
No monarch's crown adorned Him;
Love discerned her humble King,
Though the blind world scorned Him.
To my dear King some gift to bring
I sought to buy or borrow;
"Give me, child, thy heart," said He--
I was filled with sorrow.
|