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THE RECONCILER.
Then nothing is displaced,
Thou drawest all things to an Order fair;
The things we treasure most with those our haste
Doth count for nought, alike in Thee are graced
With beauty past compare.
Thou drawest all things to an Order fair;
The things we treasure most with those our haste
Doth count for nought, alike in Thee are graced
With beauty past compare.
For all grows sweet in Thee,
Since Thou didst gather us in One, and bring
This fading flower of our humanity
To perfect blossoming.
Since Thou didst gather us in One, and bring
This fading flower of our humanity
To perfect blossoming.
All comes to bloom! this wild
Green outward World of ours, that still must wear
The furrow on its brow, by print of care
And toil struck deep; this world by Sin made sad.
Hath felt Thy foot upon its sod, and smiled,—
The desert place is glad!
Green outward World of ours, that still must wear
The furrow on its brow, by print of care
And toil struck deep; this world by Sin made sad.
Hath felt Thy foot upon its sod, and smiled,—
The desert place is glad!
Thou madest all things glad
As they were good. When first Thy sunbeam flew
Abroad, it lit on nothing that was sad;
So now is all made new That meets in Thee!
Thou takest—for thy birth
Is of the Morning's womb, and so the dew
Lies ever on it—of the things that Earth
Hath left for waste, their freshness to renew.
Him most of all, the Chief
Of things thy hands have fashioned, sorest curst
Yet holding still the First-born's Birthright; first
In grandeur and in grief
As they were good. When first Thy sunbeam flew
Abroad, it lit on nothing that was sad;
So now is all made new That meets in Thee!
Thou takest—for thy birth
Is of the Morning's womb, and so the dew
Lies ever on it—of the things that Earth
Hath left for waste, their freshness to renew.
Him most of all, the Chief
Of things thy hands have fashioned, sorest curst
Yet holding still the First-born's Birthright; first
In grandeur and in grief
