« FöregåendeFortsätt »
Where is your Lord ?' she scornful asks :
We in the words of Truth reply,
Our crown, our treasure is not here, 'Tis stored above the highest sphere :
Methinks your wisdom guides amiss, To seek on earth a Christian's bliss ; We watch not now the lifeless stone; Our only Lord is risen and gone.'
Yet even the lifeless stone is dear,
No more a charnel-house to fence
'Tis now a cell where angels use
'Tis now a fane where love can find
Oh ! joy to Mary first allowed,
Joy to the faithful Three renewed,
meet them on their way!
So is it still: to holy tears,
Blessed are the pure in heart; for they shall see
WHEN holy maids and matrons speak
Of Christ's forsaken bed, And voices, that forbid to seek
The living 'mid the dead;
And when they say, 'Turn wandering heart,
Thy Lord is risen indeed, Let pleasure go, put care apart,
* And to his presence speed;
We smile in scorn: and yet we know
They early sought the tomb, Their hearts, that now so freshly glow,
Lost in desponding gloom.
They who have sought, nor hope to find,
Wear not so bright a glance : They who have won their earthly mind, Less reverently advance.
But where, in gentle spirits, fear
And joy so duly meet,
And kissed the Saviour's feet.
Nor let the Pastor's thankful eye
Their faltering tale disdain,
Prisoners of want and pain.
O guide us, when our faithless hearts
From Thee would start aloof, Where patience her sweet skill imparts
Beneath some cottage roof:
Revive our dying fires, to burn
High as our anthems soar, And of our scholars let us learn,
Our own forgotten lore.
Lo! I am with you alway, even unto the end of
ON the first christian sabbath eve,
When his disciples met,
Nor knew the scriptures yet ;
Lo! in the midst his form was seen,
The form in which He died,
His hands, his feet, his side.
Then were they glad their Lord to know,
And hail Him, yet with fear :
Meet thy disciples here :
Be in our midst ! let faith rejoice
Our risen Lord to view,
Say, 'Peace be unto you!
And while with Thee, in social hours,
We commune through thy word,
Confess— It is the Lord !'
Our double kindred to Emmanuel.
The second man was the Lord from Heaven.
And as we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly.
O! MEAN may seem this house of clay,
Yet 'twas the Lord's abode;
Yet here Emmanuel trod.
This fleshly robe the Lord did wear,
This watch the Lord did keep,
These tears the Lord did weep.
This world the Master overcame,
This death the Saviour died ;
This darksome bed He tried.
O vale of tears, no longer sad,
Wherein the Lord did dwell!
Our own Emmanuel !
Our very weakness brings us near
Unto the Lord of Heaven;
Such glory strange is given.