60
ISAAC.
Nay, but living ones: well knowing,
That the life-tide overflowing
Pays no tribute cold and hollow.
That the life-tide overflowing
Pays no tribute cold and hollow.
Clings the sick child, faint and ailing;
Doth the mother mock its wailing,
Feeble though the hands that hold it?
Closer—closer to her bosom
Will she clasp the fading blossom,
And in deeper love enfold it.
Doth the mother mock its wailing,
Feeble though the hands that hold it?
Closer—closer to her bosom
Will she clasp the fading blossom,
And in deeper love enfold it.
Lay it down—thy heart's best treasure;
Christ alone the pang can measure.
Doth He count thee an offender,
For the trembling hand that brings it,
Or the sigh when sorrow wrings it,
O'er a love so true and tender?
Christ alone the pang can measure.
Doth He count thee an offender,
For the trembling hand that brings it,
Or the sigh when sorrow wrings it,
O'er a love so true and tender?
Through the falling tears, bedewing
All the piled wood of thy doing,
He His loving heart revealeth:
Every silent pang is needed,
Not a tear-drop falls unheeded;
He His sweet acceptance sealeth.
All the piled wood of thy doing,
He His loving heart revealeth:
Every silent pang is needed,
Not a tear-drop falls unheeded;
He His sweet acceptance sealeth.
Wilt thou trust Him, though He gather
Back thy loved one? 'Tis thy Father!
And He knows thee sad and lonely.
Back thy loved one? 'Tis thy Father!
And He knows thee sad and lonely.
