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“God loveth a cheerful giver.".
CHRIST before thy door is waiting ;
Rouse thee, slave of earthly gold. Lo, He comes, thy pomp abating,
Hungry, thirsty, homeless, cold :-
Healing waters spring and glide ; Cold and bare He comes, Who never
May put off His robe of light ; Homeless, Who must dwell for ever
In the Father's Bosom bright.
In kind ambush alway lying
He besets thy bed and path,
Prayers against the time of wrath,
At the shrine of perfect rest.
grass, To be won and stored at pleasure :
But its hour will quickly pass.
Christ before His Altar standing,
Priest of Priests, in His own Day,
Of the week's heaven-guarded way.
They may best that Arm abide,
He shall lift it, and decree,
“Go, ye churls of soul unyielding,
Where nor gift nor prayer shall be.”
Jesus in His babes abiding
Shames our cold ungentle ways,
To unconscious love and praise.
Joys and treasures newly found.
Nought enjoy but what they share ; Grudging thought and care and moiling
Live not in their pure glad air.
Strange the law of Love's combining !
As with wild winds moaning round Tones from lute or harp entwining
Make one thread of solemn sound ;As calm eve's autumnal glow Answers to the woods below ;
As in landscape leaf or stone,
Cloud or flower, at random thrown, Helps the sadness or the glory ;
So the gift of playful child May recall thy natal story,
Church of Salem undefiled !
How the new-born Saints, assembling
Daily ’neath the shower of fire,
Brought the choice of earth's desire.
Type of royal hearts and free,
When thou turn’dst thy land to gold, And thy gold to strong salvation,
Leaving all, by Christ to hold :
Type of Priest and Monarch, casting
All their crowns before the Throne, And the treasure everlasting
Heaping in the world unknown.
Now in gems their relics lie,
Gleam athwart their own lov'd fanes,
On the sacred Altar floor, Whether great ones much are 'bringing,
Or their mite the mean and poor.
Bring thine all, thy choicest treasure,
Heap it high and hide it deep :
Thou shalt climb where skies are steep.
There the Lord is with His Saints,
Far and wide from heart to heart, From His Wounds atonement shedding
On the blessed widow's part.