BREAD UPON THE WATERS.
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Or tiny bud that revelled in its light.
Let but the flower chalice meekly hold
Its one lone pearl the weary midnight through;
The smiles of morn at last its cup unfold,
Nor scorns the sun that little drop of dew.
Let but the flower chalice meekly hold
Its one lone pearl the weary midnight through;
The smiles of morn at last its cup unfold,
Nor scorns the sun that little drop of dew.
BREAD UPON THE WATERS.
"Now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face."
1 Cor. xiii. 12.
Say not, "'Twas all in vain,"
The anguish, and the darkness, and the strife.
Love thrown upon the waters comes again
In quenchless yearnings for a nobler life.
Think, how at midnight, on thy weary sight
The stars shone forth: beneath their welcome rays
Thy hopes to heaven, like birds, first took their flight;
And thou shalt find them—"after many days."
The anguish, and the darkness, and the strife.
Love thrown upon the waters comes again
In quenchless yearnings for a nobler life.
Think, how at midnight, on thy weary sight
The stars shone forth: beneath their welcome rays
Thy hopes to heaven, like birds, first took their flight;
And thou shalt find them—"after many days."
Say not, "'Twas all in vain,"
The vigil, and the sickness, and the tears;
For in that land, where there is no more pain,
The grain is garnered from these mournful years.
The faded form, once sheltered on thy breast,
No more thy gentle ministry repays,
She waits with Jesus in her sinless rest:
Fear not to find her—"after many days."
The vigil, and the sickness, and the tears;
For in that land, where there is no more pain,
The grain is garnered from these mournful years.
The faded form, once sheltered on thy breast,
No more thy gentle ministry repays,
She waits with Jesus in her sinless rest:
Fear not to find her—"after many days."
