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GOLDEN JUBILEE.
Wherever misery tells its tale of need,
There bend your footsteps still;
Pure as the lily's cup,
Undimmed and undefiled,
Your stainless hands do lift the fallen up,
And soothe the orphaned child.
Burning with love, and strong with heavenly grace,
You seek the wanderer's side,
Nor Jew nor Gentile see in any face,
But Histhe Crucified!
There bend your footsteps still;
Pure as the lily's cup,
Undimmed and undefiled,
Your stainless hands do lift the fallen up,
And soothe the orphaned child.
Burning with love, and strong with heavenly grace,
You seek the wanderer's side,
Nor Jew nor Gentile see in any face,
But Histhe Crucified!
Ye who have conquered bliss,
Ye who have won the crown,
What can the empty praise of worlds like this
Add to your fair renown?
What can our heart's desire
Offer of gifts or grace
To you, who burning with the sacred fire,
Shall look upon His face?
For, O Beloved of the risen Lord,
Though Faith may mountains move,
And Hope point onward to the soul's reward,
None enters in but Love!
Ye who have won the crown,
What can the empty praise of worlds like this
Add to your fair renown?
What can our heart's desire
Offer of gifts or grace
To you, who burning with the sacred fire,
Shall look upon His face?
For, O Beloved of the risen Lord,
Though Faith may mountains move,
And Hope point onward to the soul's reward,
None enters in but Love!
