  O'er waiting harpstrings of the mind There sweeps a strain, Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind [20] The power of pain, And wake a white-winged angel throng Of thoughts, illumed By faith, and breathed in raptured song, With love perfumed. [25] Then His unveiled, sweet mercies show [1] Life's burdens light. I kiss the cross, and wake to know A world more bright. And o'er earth's troubled, angry sea [5] I see Christ walk, And come to me, and tenderly, Divinely talk. Thus Truth engrounds me on the rock, Upon Life's shore, [10] 'Gainst which the winds and waves can shock, Oh, nevermore! From tired joy and grief afar, And nearer Thee,— Father, where Thine own children are, [15] I love to be. My prayer, some daily good to do To Thine, for Thee; An offering pure of Love, whereto God leadeth me. [20] |
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