Muse and Mint

SONG

Walter Seymour Percy

GOLDEN HOPE

There is nothing in the world so sweet

As the hope which never, never dies,

That sometime, somewhere we shall meet

In gladder love beyond the skies—

Oh, beyond the skies so golden,

With the hope of Heaven olden;

For there’s nothing in all the world so sweet

As the olden, golden hope again to meet!

There is nothing in all the world so fleet

As the hope that ever, ever flies

Swift onward, upward to the seat

Of perfect love beyond the skies—

Oh, beyond the skies so glowing,

With the hope of Heaven growing;

For there’s nothing in all the world so sweet

As the glowing, growing hope again to meet!

There is nothing in all the world so great

As hope that bids us, helps us rise

With more responsive hands and feet,

With gladder tongues and clearer eyes—

Oh, upon the skies so golden,

With the hope of Heaven olden;

For there’s nothing in all the world so sweet

As the olden, golden hope again to meet!

THE COMING CROWNING

When the chariots of glory

Come flashing from the east

On the day of Advent-story,

The crowning of the Christ;

When the clouds are seraph-mounted

And radiant of wing

With angel-hosts uncounted,

And the skies with rapture ring—

My soul, wilt thou undaunted

Meet the coming of the King?

When earth the blessed vision

With lifted eyes beholds

And feels the swift transition

Of glory that enfolds;

When from the skies descending

The hosts of Heaven bring

The Kingdom never-ending

Of which all peoples sing—

O Spirit, wilt thou blending

Hail the coming of the King?

When thrones are set for mercy

And love to minister

To the naked, sick and thirsty

And all who faint or err;

When the Lord of glory reigneth

And choired censers swing

With the praises God ordaineth

As Heavens their banners fling—

O Soul, a crown that gaineth,

Crown and enthrone the King!

THE LIVING CUP

Gather all the beauty and the riches of the world,

The flowers’ blush and lover’s flush,

The hoards of gold and pearl;

But you’ll never have enough to sum

The wealth and treasure up

Like the blessing of the drinking from

The living water’s cup.

Gather all the music and the fountain-springs of love,

The heart’s desire, censer’s fire

And starry host above;

But you’ll never have enough to sum

The soul of gladness up

Like the blessing of the drinking from

The living water’s cup.

Gather all the glories and the triumphs of all time,

Of temples’ pride and kingdoms wide

And grace and art sublime;

But you’ll never have enough to sum

The joy of Heaven up

Like the blessing of the drinking from

The living water’s cup.

THE SINGERS

Oh, the song of the soul we have sought for forever,

In ages gone by and the ages to come,

But what of the voices whose noblest endeavor

Must lift it as high as the height it is from?

For the song must mount up on the wings of the Spirit

And out of the heart that kindles with love

Before all the world will listen to hear it,

Before the world’s sense it trembles above.

Oh, the song of the soul we have sought for wherever

There’s beauty or sunshine, glory or joy;

But what of the voices whose praises must gather

The echoes that melt with the lips they employ?

For the notes must spring up from the souls they awaken

And out of the hearts they kindle with love

Before all the world by their sweetness is shaken,

Before the world’s life they triumph above.

Oh, the song of the soul we have sought for as treasure

Wherever are kingdoms, jewels or gold;

But what of the voices whose heavenly measure

The wealth of the world’s richest treasure must hold?

For the song must be born from the world’s greatest passion

And out of a Heart that was kindled by love

Before all the world its power can fashion

To glory like that of the Master above.

THE CROWN OF THORNS

O crown of thorns upon the brow

Of Him they nailed on Calvary,

The serpent’s coil and sting wert thou,

The seal of sin and agony.

Chorus

For where the grief and thought of us

The Savior’s brow had borne,

They put the MOCKERY of the Cross,

The crown of thorn, the crown of thorn.

O crown of thorns, whose suffering

The Savior for the world endured,

’Twas thus He healed the serpent’s sting,

The evil mind of nature cured.

Chorus

For where the grief and thought of us

The Savior’s brow had borne,

They put the SORROW of the Cross,

The crown of thorn, the crown of thorn.

O crown of thorns, whose wounds became

Redeeming scars of victory,

The glory where was once the shame—

The diadem of Heaven be!

Chorus

For where the grief and thought of us

The Savior’s brow had borne,

They put the TRIUMPH of the Cross,

The crown of thorn, the crown of thorn.

SONG ALONG

I sang an old song as I worked one day—

What cared I who smiled,

What cared I who frowned?

So long as my song made the task seem play,

What cared I how many were pleasure-bound?

I heeded them not unless they as well

Were singing a song that work-glad fell,

And then we together went singing along.

I courted my love when dreamers were we—

What cared I who laughed

What cared I who sighed?

So long as my love was the world to me,

What cared I for others the whole world wide?

I heeded them not unless they as well

Were dreaming upon the same love’s spell,

And then we together went dreaming along.

So I worked with a love-song for my cheer—

What cared I who hated

Both labor and joy?

So long as my loved ones to me were dear,

What cared I how others made loving alloy?

I heeded them not unless they as well

Were part of the song which cherubs swell,

And then we together went singing along.

ECCE HOMO!

Upon the Cross I see Him nailed,

The man of Nazareth;

His brow is pierced, His visage paled

With sufferings of death.

Around Him gather those who hate

And those who love Him most

To watch His sin-appointed fate

With grief or ruthless boast;

And as His pleading face I scan

All history cries—“Behold the Man!”

His wounded hands and feet I see,

The fountain from His side;

O Calvary, O Calvary,

Behold the Crucified!

Yet not the cruel thorns are worst

Nor blood of anguish spilt,

But that the sinless One is curst

For all the race’s guilt;

And as His pleading face I scan

All history cries—“Behold the Man!”

Yet as I on His visage marred

With guilt and sorrow gaze

It changes from the beauty scarred

To time’s most wondrous face.

A glory as of Heaven breaks

Upon the crown of thorn

And every tortured feature takes

A love by passion born;

For as His pleading face I scan

All history cries—“Behold the Man!”

THE LOVE THAT WASHED HIS FEET

She came as at supper the Lord reclined,

She came with purpose sweet;

Not of the host’s or servant’s kind

Withheld from Him at meat;

For she came to wash His feet.

She watered them with tears of grief,

She wiped them with her hair,

She kissed them till she found relief

And words of pardon there

As she knelt to wash His feet.

She loved the most because she knew

Forgiveness so great;

She loved, and nothing else could do

To prove her love complete

But to wash her Savior’s feet.

No goodly laver did she own,

No costly perfume bring;

But hers was the truest service shown

Whose faith the world will sing

As the love which washed His feet.

O sinner, the Savior’s present still

Beside Compassion’s seat

To pardon whosoever will

The woman’s trust repeat

And kiss the Savior’s feet!

Let contrite tears be mercy’s plea

And love its passion press

Upon the feet of ministry

That came to save and bless

The hands which clasp His feet!

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