26
A REVERIE.
From the depths of Earth's sorrowing heart comes a wail,
For the infinite peace that abides,
In the great heart of Him who wounded with thorns,
For the sins of the multitude died.
For the infinite peace that abides,
In the great heart of Him who wounded with thorns,
For the sins of the multitude died.
In the tumult and din of the great city's strife,
The voice of the Father still lives;
'Tis the still small voice of the innermost heart,
That blessing the being, still gives,
A hope for the future, a crown, and a palm,
For the sorrowing souls that endure,
That chastened by suffering out of the fire,
Emerge, ever stainless and pure.
The voice of the Father still lives;
'Tis the still small voice of the innermost heart,
That blessing the being, still gives,
A hope for the future, a crown, and a palm,
For the sorrowing souls that endure,
That chastened by suffering out of the fire,
Emerge, ever stainless and pure.
Though deep in the strength of man's moral sense,
Dwells the wish of the purest and best,
The fountains of passion, temptation, and sin,
Tempt the true heart away from its rest.
For, when in the multitude, One of old set,
The frail one accused by the throng,
Dwells the wish of the purest and best,
The fountains of passion, temptation, and sin,
Tempt the true heart away from its rest.
For, when in the multitude, One of old set,
The frail one accused by the throng,
