Then rise at dawn of day, And wind thy thoughtful way, Where rested once the Temple's stately shade, With due feet tracing round The city's northern bound, To th' other holy garden, where the Lord was laid. Who thus alternate see His death and victory, Rising and falling as on angel wings Their heart untravell'd still adores the King of Kings. CHRISTMAS DAY What sudden blaze of song Spreads o'er the expanse of Heaven ? In waves of light it thrills along Th' angelic signal given Glory to God!" from yonder central fire Flows out the echoing lay beyond the starry 66 quire ; Like circles widening round Upon a clear blue river, Orb after orb, the wondrous sound Is echoed on for ever: Glory to God on high, on earth be peace, "And love towards men of love-salvation and release.” Yet stay, before you dare To join that festal throng; Listen and mark what gentle air First stirr'd the tide of song: 'Tis not," the Saviour born in David's home To whom for power and health obedient worlds should come." 'Tis not, "the Christ the Lord With fix'd adoring look The choir of angels caught the word, But when they heard the sign, where Christ should be, In sudden light they shone and heavenly harmony. Wrapp'd in His swaddling bands, The hope and glory of all lands No peaceful home upon His cradle smil'd, Guests rudely went and came, where slept the royal child. But where Thou dwellest, Lord, How should I part with Thee? Bethlehem must lose Thee soon, but Thou wilt grace The single-heart to be Thy sure abidingplace. Thee, on the bosom laid Shepherd and sage may find; They, who have bow'd untaught to Nature's sway, And they, who follow Truth along her starpav'd way. The pastoral spirits first Approach Thee, Babe Divine, For they in lowly thoughts are nurs'd, Meet for Thy lowly shrine: Sooner than they should miss where Thou dost dwell, Angels from Heaven will stoop to guide them to Thy cell. Still, as the day comes round By wakeful shepherds Thou art found, All through the wintry heaven and chill night air, In music and in light Thou dawnest on their prayer. O faint not ye for fear What though your wandering sheep, Reckless of what they see and hear, Lie lost in wilful sleep? High Heaven in mercy to your sad annoy Still greets you with glad tidings of immortal joy. Think on th' eternal home, Think on the Lord most holy, come So shall ye tread untir'd His pastoral ways, And in the darkness sing your carol of high praise. SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER O for a sculptor's hand That thou might'st take thy stand, Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze, Thy tranc'd yet open gaze Fix'd on the desert haze, As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees. In outline, dim and vast, The giant forms of empires on their way C To ruin one by one They tower and they are gone,, Yet in the prophet's soul the dreams of avarice stay. No sun or star so bright In all the world of light That they should draw to heaven his downward eye; He hears th' Almighty's word, He sees the angel's sword, Yet low upon the earth his heart and treasure lie. Lo, from yon argent field, To him and us reveal'd, One gentle star glides down, on earth to dwell. Chain'd as they are below Our eyes may see it glow, And as it mounts again, may track its brightness well. To him 't glar'd afar A token of wild war, The banner of his Lord's victorious wrath; But close to us it gleams. Its soothing lustre streams Around our home's green walls, and on our churchway path. |