THE GOOD SHEPHERD.
[W. E. LITTLEWOOD.]
INTO a desolate land
White with the drifted snow,
Into a weary land
Our truant footsteps go:
Yet doth Thy care, O Father,
Ever Thy wanderers keep;
Still doth Thy love, O Shepherd,
Follow Thy sheep.
Over the pathless wild
Do I not see Him come?
Him who shall bear me back,
Hun who shall lead me home?
Listen between the storm-gusts
Unto the straining ear,
Comes not the cheering whisper-
"Jesus is near."
Over me He is bending!
Now I can safely rest,
Found at the last, and clinging
Close to the Shepherd's breast:
So let me lie til the fold-bells
Sound on the homeward track,
And the rejoicing angels
Welcome us back!
YES, God is good : in earth and sky,
From ocean-depths and spreading wood,
Ten thousand voices seem to cry,
"God made us all, and God is good.”
The sun that keeps his track less way,
And downward pours his golden flood,
Night's sparkling hosts, all seem to say,
In accents clear, that God is good.
The merry birds prolong the strain,
Their song with every spring renew'd;
And balmy air, and falling rain,
Each softly whisper, "God is good."
I hear it in the rushing breeze;
The hills that have for ages stood,
The echoing sky, and roaring seas,
All swell the chorus, "God is good."
Yes, God is good, all Nature says,
By God's own hand with speech endued;
And man, in louder notes of praise,
Should sing for joy that "God is good."
For all Thy gifts we bless Thee, Lord,
But chiefly for our heavenly food,
Thy pardoning grace, Thy quick'ning word;
These prompt our song that "God is good."
THE CHEERFUL LAMP.
[JOHN HENRY NEWMAN.]
LEAD, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on ;
The night is dark, and I am far from home;
Lead Thou me on ;
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.
I was not ever thus, nor pray'd, that Thou
Shouldst lead me on ;
I loved to choose and see my path; but now
Lead Thou me on ;
I loved the garish day, and spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will: Remember not past years!
So long Thy power has blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on,
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile!
THOU art gone up on high,
To realms beyond the skies;
And round Thy throne unceasingly
The songs of praise arise:
But we are lingering here,
With sin and care oppressed;
Lord, send Thy promised Comforter,
And lead us to our rest.
Thou art gone up on high;
But Thou didst first come down,
Through earth's most bitter misery
To pass unto Thy crown;
And girt with griefs and fears
Our onward course must be ;
But only let this path of tears
Lead us at last to Thee.
A hou art gone up on high;
But Thou shalt come again,
With all the bright ones of the sky
Attendant in Thy train.
Lord, by Thy saving power,
So make us live and die,
That we may stand in that dread hour
At Thy right hand on high.
COME, Holy Spirit, come;
Let thy bright beams arise;
Dispel all sorrow from our minds,
All darkness from our eyes.
Convince us all of sin,
Then lead to Jesu's blood;
And to our wondering view reveal
The secret love of God.
Revive our drooping faith,
Our doubts and fears remove;
And kindle in our breasts the flame
Of never-dying love.
"Tis thine to cleanse the heart,
To sanctify the soul,
To pour fresh life on every part,
And new create the whole.
Dwell thou within our hearts,
Our minds from bondage free;
Then shall we know, and praise, and love,
The Father, Son, and Thee.
I HEAR CELESTIAL VOICES.
[JAMES MONTGOMERY.]
THE scene around me disappears,
And borne to ancient regions,
While time recalls the flight of years,
I see angelic legions
Descending in an orb of light:
Amidst the dark and silent night
I hear celestial voices.
Tidings, glad tidings from above
To every age and nation !
Tidings, glad tidings! God is love,
To man He sends salvation!
His Son beloved, His only Son,
The work of mercy hath begun ;
Give to His name the glory!
Through David's city I am led ;
Here all around are sleeping
A Light directs to yon poor shed
There lonely watch is keeping:
I enter; ah! what glories shine!
Is this Immanuel's earthly shrine,
Messiah's infant Temple!
It is, it is; and I adore
This Stranger meek and lowly,
As saints and angels bow before
The throne of God thrice Holy !
Faith through the veil of flesh can see
The face of Thy divinity,
My Lord, my God, my Saviour!
PLEASANT ARE THY COURTS. [REV. H. F. LYTE.]
PLEASANT are Thy courts above,
In the land of light and love;
Pleasant are Thy courts below,
In this land of sin and woe.
O, my spirit longs and faints
For the converse of Thy saints,
For the brightness of Thy face,
For Thy fulness, God of grace.
Happy birds, that sing and fly
Round Thy altars, O Most High!
Happier souls, that find a rest
In a heavenly Father's breast!
|