102
AN INVOCATION.
There are manly lips that quaff,
This day, the first red cup,
Wherein the adder coils and sends,
Its poisonous incense up.
This day, the first red cup,
Wherein the adder coils and sends,
Its poisonous incense up.
There are those, Oh! God forgive them,
Who this very day will seek,
Their prey among the lowly,
Toiling on with faded cheek.
Striving for the meagre pittance,
That the soul and body join,
Thou, Oh! soul, may'st breathe a prayer,
That He will keep his own.
Who this very day will seek,
Their prey among the lowly,
Toiling on with faded cheek.
Striving for the meagre pittance,
That the soul and body join,
Thou, Oh! soul, may'st breathe a prayer,
That He will keep his own.
There's a work, Oh! soul, so great,
In our fair Christ-land to do,
That from its might thou may'st shrink,
Lest God's own power help thee through.
Myriad halls of shame and sorrow,
That bring tears from angel eyes,
Where the weary, and forsaken,
Welcomed are as greedy prize.
In our fair Christ-land to do,
That from its might thou may'st shrink,
Lest God's own power help thee through.
Myriad halls of shame and sorrow,
That bring tears from angel eyes,
Where the weary, and forsaken,
Welcomed are as greedy prize.
Shall we seek them out, and hold them,
In the pulpit's shrines of truth,
Instil their wrongs, and painful vices,
In the pure white hearts of Youth?
No! human hearts were ne'er made better,
By the sight of shame and vice,
Better carry the dire misfortune,
To the gracious throne of Christ.
In the pulpit's shrines of truth,
Instil their wrongs, and painful vices,
In the pure white hearts of Youth?
No! human hearts were ne'er made better,
By the sight of shame and vice,
Better carry the dire misfortune,
To the gracious throne of Christ.
