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Then on thy bosom borne shall we descend,
Again with earth to blend, Earth all refin’d with bright supernal fires, Tinctur'd with holy blood, and wing'd with pure
Meanwhile with every son and saint of thine
Along the glorious line,
We'll hold communion sweet,
For helping us in thrall, For words of hope, and bright examples given To shew through moonless skies that there is light in
O come that day, when in this restless heart
Earth shall resign her part, When in the grave with Thee my limbs shall rest,
My soul with Thee be blest ! But stay, presumptuous-Christ with thee abides
In the rock's dreary sides : He from the stone will wring celestial dew If but the prisoner's heart be faithful found and true. When tears are spent, and thou art left alone
With ghosts of blessings gone,
In Jesus' burial shade;
Out of the rocky wall
Prisoner of Hope thou art _look up and sing
In hope of promis'd spring.
Beside the desert way,
Even from that living grave,
1 Zechariah ix. 12. Turn ye to the strong hold, ye prisoners of hope.
m Gen. xxxvii. 24. They took him and cast him into a pit, and the pit was empty, there was no water in it.
And as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth, they said unto them, Why seek ye the living among the dead ? He is not here, but is risen. St. Luke xxiv. 5, 6.
OH ! day of days ! shall hearts set free
Enthroned in thy sovereign sphere
And week-days, following in their train,
Then wake, my soul, to high desires,
way, Nor thinks on thee, thou blessed day :
Or, if she think, it is in scorn :
66 Where is
Lord ?" she scornful asks: " Where is his hire? we know his tasks; “ Sons of a king ye boast to be ; “ Let us your crowns and treasures see.
We in the words of Truth reply,
“ Methinks your wisdom guides amiss, 66 To'seek on earth a Christian's bliss ; 66 We watch not now the lifeless stone; 6 Our only Lord is risen and gone.”
Yet even the lifeless stone is dear
No more a charnel-house, to fence
'Tis now a cell, where angels use
'Tis now a fane, where Love can find Christ every where embalm’d and shrin'd ; Aye gathering up memorials sweet, , Where'er she sets her duteous feet.
Oh! joy to Mary first allow'd,