“The Day Of Christ.”

The Son of man will come,-- His promise cannot fail; The royal Conqueror Shall over all prevail; And Earth shall hear his summons dread, And Death and Hell give up their dead.

Ten thousand thousand saints His coming shall attend,-- And underneath his feet The firmament shall rend; And, prostrate at his judgment throne, The world his sovereignty shall own.

O Son of Mary! hear A helpless sinner’s prayer, And, on that awful day, Make me thy gracious care; O, be my heart’s sure hope and stay When the wide heavens shall flee away.

Keep faithful watch, my soul, And pray “Thy kingdom come;” But leave it all to Him, How he shall bring thee home; The resurrection of the just Shall recompense thy patient trust.

THE CONSUMMATION.

O Saviour, whose surpassing grace Exceeds the guilt thy griefs atoned, The praises of a ransomed race Be thine, in highest heaven enthroned.

The Father’s everlasting love Thy blessed life and death declare; And still, though crowned with bliss above, Our deepest sorrows thou dost share.

O Jesus, merciful and kind, The sad and sinful seek thy breast; Our souls in thee their solace find,-- Our refuge thou, our only rest.

The goal is sure, O Guide divine! Again the stars of morning sing; All wills, all worlds, at last are thine, O Christ, Creator, Saviour, King!

ALL SAINTS.

Ten thousand times ten thousand,-- Their shining ranks I see! With robes of light resplendent, And palms of victory!

The crowns they wear are golden, And gemmed with jewels rare,-- Fair guerdon of the glory They with their Saviour share.

Their home--the holy city, Within whose ageless walls No shade of sin, or sickness, Or sorrow, ever falls; For He is ever with them, The Lamb, their life, their light,-- The joy of all the ransomed, The saints’ supreme delight.

Dear vision of the blessèd-- How homelike heaven seems! Sweet foretaste of the rapture Exceeding all our dreams. O Jesus, Shepherd, Saviour, My guide and guardian be, And bring me, through thy favor, To dwell with them and thee.

OUR LIFE IS LENT.

Our life is Lent: Our years are spent In penance for the past; Our songs are sighs, Our brightest skies With clouds are overcast.

Our life is Lent: The old lament-- “All, all is vanity;” And Youth, in tears, Awaits with fears The morrow’s mystery.

Our life is Lent: Lord, we repent Each folly, fault, and fall; Our best resolve Do thou absolve,-- Forgive, forget it all.

Our life is Lent: Our hearts are rent, As we thy gifts recount, And mark again, With bitter pain, “The pattern in the mount.”

Our life is Lent: Our strength is spent; O holy Judge, and just, Receive our prayer,-- Poor sinners spare; Remember we are dust!

Our life is Lent: But Jesus went This way; in him confide; ’Twill soon be past; Then, for thy fast, Eternal Easter-tide!

IT DOTH NOT YET APPEAR.

“It doth not yet appear what we shall be;” The goal, the crown, but dimly we discern,-- For evermore from sin and sorrow free, In that blest world for which we often yearn.

“It doth not yet appear what we shall be;” Eye hath not seen, nor was it ever told-- The height of honor we shall share with Thee, Enthroned in light and rapture manifold.

“It doth not yet appear what we shall be,”-- Redeemed from death and glorified above; Enough, dear Lord, that we shall be like thee, In that eternal life of cloudless love.

THE RAINBOW ROUND THE THRONE.

The sunshine and the shadow--alternately they flow Across the fields of ether, across our hearts below; The gloom and glory blending in beauty manifold, The mists of morning ending in evening’s gates of gold.

Forever and forever our human lives are so-- The sunshine and the shadow, alternate weal and woe; Perpetually ascending, earth’s mingled mirth and moan,-- But lo! above us bending, the rainbow round the throne!

Hold fast the heavenly vision; this hope thy soul sustain-- All things shall work together for thy eternal gain; The mystery of sorrow, the mystery of pain, Shall sure, some happy morrow, to every heart be plain.