Listen, ye pure white-robed souls,
Whom in her list she now enrolls,
And gird ye for your high emprize
By these her thrilling minstrelsies.
And wheresoe'er in earth's wide field,
Ye lift, for Him, the red-cross shield,
Be this your song, your joy and pride -
"Our Champion went before and died."
TRINITY SUNDAY
If I have told you earthly things, and ye believe not, how shall ye
believe if I tell you of heavenly things? St. John iii. 12
Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide,
Now on Thy mercy's ocean wide
Far out of sight we seem to glide.
Help us, each hour, with steadier eye
To search the deepening mystery,
The wonders of Thy sea and sky.
The blessed Angels look and long
To praise Thee with a worthier song,
And yet our silence does Thee wrong. -
Along the Church's central space
The sacred weeks, with unfelt pace,
Hath borne us on from grace to grace.
As travellers on some woodland height,
When wintry suns are gleaming bright,
Lose in arched glades their tangled sight; -
By glimpses such as dreamers love
Through her grey veil the leafless grove
Shows where the distant shadows rove; -
Such trembling joy the soul o'er-awes
As nearer to Thy shrine she draws:-
And now before the choir we pause.
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