grace,
And such the children’s love.
Then shall our spirits hold at once
A comfort and a pain;
For we shall know thy wandering sons
Are turning home again.
With such glad grief, such tearful joy,
Be our repentance blest;
Thy comfort then, without alloy,
Shall give us heavenly rest.
Blessed Are the Meek
For They Shall Inherit the Earth
O son of man—name of thy choice,
Our brother-Lord, our life,
The story says thy noble voice
Was never heard in strife.
Loving always, asleep, awake,
Talking, or drinking wine—
Even uttering woe, thy love would make
The sons of God divine.
Without a place to lay thy head,
That head yet wore earth’s crown;
At thy command diseases fled,
The winds and waves lay down.
In all things like thy brethren made,
Grant, king of kings, that we,
In humble royalty arrayed,
Possess the earth like thee.
Blessed Are They That Hunger
And Thirst After Righteousness: For They Shall Be Filled
If we were longing for the bread
That cometh down from heaven;
If for the water that he said
To thirsty souls is given;
Then boldly should we come to thee,
And plead for that we want;
For in our souls desire would be
An earnest of the grant.
But when thy sun shines from the skies,
Earth smiles back to her lord:
In upward looks our hopes arise,
Responsive to thy word.
Our souls, dry empty vessels set
Thy rain to hold and lend,
Lie open to thy heaven, O let
The righteousness descend.
Blessed Are the Merciful
For They Shall Obtain Mercy
It was an awful hour that gave
Thee, Lord, the strength to win
Unholy men up from the grave
Of darkness and of sin.
And is this all thou dost require
For thy forgiveness now—
That we to loftier bliss aspire
By doing even as thou?
Thou risest on our darksome earth,
Radiant of human light,
That men may see, recall their birth,
And claim its lofty right;
The right to pardon and to bless,
By service high to rule;
Upheld with wealth of tenderness
From God the pitiful.
Blessed Are the Pure in Heart
For They Shall See God
Father, our bosoms, dark and drear,
Are in such evil case
With hate, ambition, care, and fear.
We cannot see thy face.
Cast out our Legion; cleanse thy room.
But not to leave it bare;
Let Christ into his temple come,
And devils will not dare.
His light will cleanse the eyes to see,
Open the ears to hear;
And so the house prepared for thee,
Thy vision will draw near.
Thy glory shall free entrance win,
When thou com’st to thy place;
And full of holy eyes within
We shall behold thy face.
Morning Hymn
O Lord of life, thy quickening voice
Awakes my morning song!
In gladsome words I would rejoice
That I to thee belong.
I see thy light, I feel thy wind;
The world, it is thy word;
Whatever wakes my heart and mind,
Thy presence is, my Lord.
The living soul which I call me
Doth love, and long to know;
It is a thought of living thee,
Nor forth of thee can go.
Therefore I choose my highest part,
And turn my face to thee;
Therefore I stir my inmost heart
To worship fervently.
Lord, let me live and will this day—
Keep rising from the dead;
Lord, make my spirit good and gay—
Give me my daily bread.
Within my heart, speak, Lord, speak on,
My heart alive to keep,
Till comes the night, and, labour done,
In thee I fall asleep.
Evening Hymn
O God, whose daylight leadeth down
Into the sunless way,
Who with restoring sleep dost crown
The labour of the day!
What I have done, Lord, make it clean
With thy forgiveness dear;
That so to-day what might have been,
To-morrow may appear.
And when my thought is all astray,
Yet think thou on in me;
That with the new-born innocent day
My soul rise fresh and free.
Nor let me wander all in vain
Through dreams that mock and flee;
But even in visions of the brain,
Go wandering toward thee.
Noontide Hymn
I love thy skies, thy sunny mists,
Thy fields, thy mountains hoar,
Thy wind that bloweth where it lists—
Thy will, I love it more.
I love thy hidden truth to seek
All round, in sea, on shore;
The arts whereby like gods we speak—
Thy will to me is more.
I love thy men and women, Lord,
The children round thy door;
Calm thoughts that inward strength afford—
Thy will than these is more.
But when thy will my life doth hold
Thine to the very core,
The world, which that same will doth mould,
I love, then, ten times more!
The Thankless Lady
It is May, and the moon leans down at night
Over a blossomy land;
Leans from her window a lady white,
With her cheek upon her hand.
“Oh, why in the blue so misty, moon?
Why so dull in the sky?
Thou look’st like one that is ready to swoon
Because her tear-well is dry.
“Enough, enough of longing and wail!
Oh, bird, I pray thee, be glad!
Sing to me once, dear nightingale,
The old song, merry mad.
“Hold, hold with thy blossoming, colourless, cold,
Apple-tree white as woe!
Blossom yet once with the blossom of old,
Let the roses shine through the snow!”
The moon and the blossoms they gloomily gleam,
The bird will not be glad:
The dead never speak when the mournful dream,
They are too weak and sad.
Listened she listless till night grew late,
Bound by a weary spell;
Then clanked the latch of the garden-gate,
And a wondrous thing befell:
Out burst the gladness, up dawned the love.
In the song, in the waiting show;
Grew silver the moon in the sky above.
Blushed rosy the blossom below.
But the merry bird, nor the silvery moon,
Nor the blossoms that flushed the night
Had one poor thanks for the granted boon:
The lady forgot them quite!
The Sea-Shell
“Listen, darling, and tell to me
What the murmurer says to thee,
Murmuring ’twixt a song and a moan,
Changing neither tune nor tone.”
“Yes, I hear it—far
