Gleams upon our dark path flinging,
Cutting short each night begun;
Now Thy herald cock is singing
To our chant, and calls the Sun.
And the morning star replies,
And unlocks the imprisoned day,
And the ungodly bandit flies
From his haunt and from his prey.
Shrill it sounds, the storm relenting
Soothes the weary seaman's ears;
Once it wrought a great repenting,
When the Church's rock shed tears.
Rouse we; let the blithesome cry
Of that bird our hearts awaken, Chide the slumberers as they lie, And convince the sin-o'ertaken.
Hope and health are in his strain
To the fearful and the ailing;
Murder sheathes his blade profane,
Faith revives where faith was failing.
Jesu, Master, when we sin,
Turn on us Thy healing face; It will melt the offence within
Into penitential grace.
Beam on our bewildered mind,
Till its dreamy shadows flee; Stones cry out where Thou hast shined, Jesu, musical with Thee.
I LOVE Thee, O most gracious Lord,
Not that Thou sav'st me by Thy word;
Nor yet because Thy wrath shall doom
Those loving not to endless gloom.
Thou, Thou, my Jesus, full of grace,
Didst me upon the cross embrace;
Didst bear the nails, the bloody spear,
The great disgrace, the rabble's jeer.
Innumerable griefs were Thine,
Great sweats, and anguish, Lord of mine!
The pangs of death, and all for me,
That I, poor wretch, might come to Thee!
Then why not love with all my heart?
O Jesus, most beloved Thou art!
Not that Thou sav'st my soul above,
Nor me condemn'st, do Thee I love.
Not for the hope of sure reward,
But for Thy love, O blessed Lord!
My love is Thine, and e'er shall be,
Because, my King, Thou reign'st o'er me!
Joy! the lost one is restored!
Sunshine comes to hearth and board
From the far-off countries old
Of the diamond and red gold;
From the dusky archer bands,
Roamers of the fiery sands;
From the desert winds, whose breath
Smites with sudden silent death;
He hath reached his home again,
Where we sing
In Thy praise a fervent strain,
God our King!
Mightiest, unto Thee he turned.
When the noonday fiercest burned;
When the fountain springs were far,
And the sounds of Arab war
Swelled upon the sultry blast,
And the sandy columns past,
Unto Thee he cried; and Thou,
Merciful, didst hear his vow!
Therefore, unto Thee again
Joy shall sing
Many a sweet and thankful strain,
God our King!
Thou wert with him on the main,
And the snowy mountain-chain,
And the rivers dark and wide,
Which through Indian forests glide.
Thou didst guard him from the wrath
Of the lion in his path,
And the arrows on the breeze,
And the drooping poison trees;
Therefore, from the household train
Oft shall spring
Unto Thee a blessing strain,
God our King!
Thou to his lone watching wife
Hast brought back the light of life;
Thou hast spared his loving child
Home to greet him from the wild.
Though the suns of eastern skies
On his cheek have set their dyes,
Though long toils and sleepless cares
On his brow have blanched the hairs,
Yet the night of fear is flown,
He is living, and our own!
Brethren, spread his festal board,
Hang his mantle on his sword,
With the armor on the wall,
While this long, long silent hall
|