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GOD'S MESSENGER.
Christ hath caught the sob that mourned it,
And His smile to prayer hath turned it,
While He saith, "My faithful servant!"
And His smile to prayer hath turned it,
While He saith, "My faithful servant!"
Lay it down! Ah, thou hast laid it;
Richly hath thy love arrayed it!
Yet 'twill fairer be, and never
Shall the dust becloud its sweetness;
But, transformed to heavenly meetness,
Thou mayst call it thine for ever.
Richly hath thy love arrayed it!
Yet 'twill fairer be, and never
Shall the dust becloud its sweetness;
But, transformed to heavenly meetness,
Thou mayst call it thine for ever.
GOD'S MESSENGER.
"Who hath ears to hear, let him hear."—Matt. xiii. 9
I gazed around my lonely room,
Then on the city's street,
Where, one by one, accustomed sounds
Died in the noontide heat.
The whitened pavement burned beneath
The sultry summer sky,
And, from the view within—without,
My heart turned wearily.
Then on the city's street,
Where, one by one, accustomed sounds
Died in the noontide heat.
The whitened pavement burned beneath
The sultry summer sky,
And, from the view within—without,
My heart turned wearily.
The holy page upon my knee
Was silent, and I sighed:
I seemed within a prison cage,
Freedom and flight denied.
Was silent, and I sighed:
I seemed within a prison cage,
Freedom and flight denied.
