Is there a mourner dear to Thee, whom we
Have left uncomforted?
Yet still through lonelier loneliness, the heart
Bereft of Thee, is led.
O world of common, human cries! and calls
Of souls in direst need!
To meet ye, mighty were the love that sought
To take the Master's speed.
Give us that love, dear God, who gave to us
To bear His loving name.
Give us that sacred speed to keep the step
That strikes with His the same.
Waves of one tide, this people be! and flow
Straight shoreward to Thy will.
White as a dove, upon them, now descend
Thy Spirit, strong and still.
Thy blessings on their future rest and brood,
—The brightest, lip can tell,—
In home and heart, in faith and fact, O best
Of daily mercy! dwell.
With those who summon—trusting it to lead
Their feet to walk Christ's way—
The voice of him on whose bowed head, I call
The grace of God to-day.
ANSWERED.
Why did I never sing a song to you?
Dearest! To you again, behold the question start.
To mine own pulses have I ever sung? Or do
I read a rhyme unto my beating heart?