Poems (Hale)/For the opening of a Sunday School

by Mary Whitwell Hale

FOR THE OPENING OF A SUNDAY SCHOOL.

  Lord! to the house of prayer
Would we, Thy suppliant children, come,
As to a long-sought, cherished home,
  Whose blessings all may share.

  It is the gate of heaven,
Through which the beams of perfect day,
Whose fountain stream knows no decay,
  Are to the vision given.

  We hail its glorious light.
Fair as that heaven-lit splendor broke,
When earth in life's young beauty woke,
  Its radiance meets the sight.

  Low at a Father's feet,
God of the young! our spirits bow.
Here at this temple-shrine wilt Thou
  Deign with our souls to meet?

  Lord, through the living way,
Wilt Thou conduct this blessed band,
Till round Thy throne their feet shall stand,
  Where springs eternal day?

  A void and silent place,
Where truth once lit the sparkling eye,
Telling of love that could not die,
  Our eyes in sadness trace.

  May she not still be near?
Near in love's quenchless tenderness,
Unseen, our onward path to bless,
  Our yearning hearts to cheer?

  Yes, though her spirit share
The full communion of the blest,
Still may she turn her from that rest,
  Unheard to join our prayer.

  We cannot, may not know;
Yet were the fancy soothing, sweet,
That, side by side, our kindred feet
  May tread Thy courts below.

  Father! when here no more,
Our wayward, wandering footsteps rove,
Grant we may meet, to live, to love,
  On heaven's immortal shore.