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And we, on divers shores now cast,
Shall meet, our perilous voyage past,
All in our Father's house at last..
And ere thou leave him, say thou this, Yet one word more—they only miss The winning of that final bliss,
Who will not count it true, that Love,
Blessing, not cursing, rules above,
And that in it we live and move.
And one thing further make him know,
That to believe these things are so,
This firm faith never to forego,
Despite of all which seems at strife
With blessing, all with curses rife,
That this is blessing, this is life.
Weep not for broad lands lost;
Weep not for fair hopes crost;
Weep not when limbs wax old ;
Weep not when friends grow cold ;
Weep not that Death must part
Thine and the best-loved heart;
Yet weep, weep all thou can-
Weep, weep, because thou art
A sin-defiled man.
Thou inevitable day,
When a voice to me shall say—
“Thou must rise and come away ;
All thine other journeys past,
Gird thee, and make ready fast
For thy longest and thy last—"
Day, deep-hidden from our sight
In impenetrable night,
Who may guess of thee aright ?
Art thou distant, art thou near ?
Wilt thou seem more dark or clear ?
Day with more of hope or fear?
Wilt thou come, not seen before
Thou art standing at the door,
Saying, light and life are o'er ?
Or with such a gradual pace,
As shall leave me largest space
To regard thee face to face ?
Shall I lay my drooping head
On some loved lap, round my bed
Prayer be made and tears be shed ?
Or at distance from mine own,
Name and kin alike unknown,
Make my solitary moan ?
Will there yet be things to leave, Hearts to which this heart must cleave, From which parting it must grieve ?
Or shall life's best ties be o er,
And all loved ones gone before
To that other happier shore ?
Shall I gently fall on sleep,
Death, like slumber, o'er me creep,
Like a slumber sweet and deep?
Or the soul long strive in vain
To get free, with toil and pain
From its half-divided chain ?
Little skills it where or how,
If thou comest then or now,
With a smooth or angry brow;
Come thou must, and we must die-
Jesus, Saviour, stand Thou by,
When that last sleep seals our eye.
If sorrow came not near us, and the lore
Which wisdom-working sorrow best imparts,
Found never time of entrance to our hearts,
If we had won already a safe shore,
Or if our changes were already o'er,
Our pilgrim being we might quite forget,
Our hearts but faintly on those mansions set,
Where there shall be no sorrow any more.
Therefore we will not be unwise to ask
This, nor secure exemption from our share
Of mortal suffering, and life's drearier task-
Not this, but grace our portion so to bear,
That we may rest, when grief and pain are over,
“With the meek Son of our Almighty Lover."
Voyager on life's troubled sea,
Sailing to Eternity,
Turn from earthly things away ;
Vain they are, and brief their stay :
Chaining down to earth the heart,
Nothing lasting they impart.
Voyager, what are they to thee?
Leave them all, and follow Me.
Traveller on the road of life,
Seeking pleasure, finding strife;
Know the world can never give
Aught on which the soul can live :
Grasp not riches, seek not fame-
Shining dust, and sounding name.
Traveller, what are they to thee ?
Leave them all, and follow Me.