THE GOLDEN VIAL.
97
I fill my earthen pitcher,
From the wavelets on the brink:
Is one athirst and weary?
Then let him come and drink.
From the wavelets on the brink:
Is one athirst and weary?
Then let him come and drink.
I thank Thee, Lord, for Marah:
Thy bitter mercies shine
With the radiance of Thy glory,
In this lone march of mine.
I thank Thee, too, for Elim,
The palm-tree and the well;
But I praise Thee more for Marah
Than my stammering tongue can tell.
Thy bitter mercies shine
With the radiance of Thy glory,
In this lone march of mine.
I thank Thee, too, for Elim,
The palm-tree and the well;
But I praise Thee more for Marah
Than my stammering tongue can tell.
THE GOLDEN VIAL.
Yes! all are there! safe in His golden vial,
The glistening tears, though none beheld them shed,
And days ne'er counted on the earthly dial
Are marked in heaven, though below unread.
The glistening tears, though none beheld them shed,
And days ne'er counted on the earthly dial
Are marked in heaven, though below unread.
The prayer, the groan, the sigh, all, all are numbered,
And 'mid the holy things of God are sealed;
Yea, the forgotten sorrow that hath slumbered
Shall wake to bless the pierced Hand that healed.
And 'mid the holy things of God are sealed;
Yea, the forgotten sorrow that hath slumbered
Shall wake to bless the pierced Hand that healed.
