POEMS
399
| Mourner, it calls you, — “Come to my bosom, |
| Love wipes your tears all away, |
| And will lift the shade of gloom, |
| And for you make radiant room |
| Midst the glories of one endless day.” |
| Sinner, it calls you, — “Come to this fountain, |
| Cleanse the foul senses within; |
| 'T is the Spirit that makes pure, |
| That exalts thee, and will cure |
| All thy sorrow and sickness and sin.” |
| Strongest deliverer, friend of the friendless, |
| Life of all being divine: |
| Thou the Christ, and not the creed; |
| Thou the Truth in thought and deed; |
| Thou the water, the bread, and the wine. |
Laus Deo!
Written on laying the corner-stone of The Mother Church
| Laus Deo, it is done! |
| Rolled away from loving heart |
| Is a stone. |
| Lifted higher, we depart, |
| Having one. |
| Laus Deo, on this rock |
| (Heaven chiselled squarely good) |
| Stands His church, — |
| God is Love, and understood |
| By His flock. |
