Ps. cxlix. 3.
To praise Him in
the dance! O glorious day!
The pilgrim journey done--
No more press forward on the weary way,
For all is reached and won!
His Hand at last, the Hand once pierced for me,
For ever holdeth mine;
O Lord, no songs, no harps of heaven wil be
Sweet as one word of Thine.
Lord, altogether lovely! then at last
High shall the guerdon be,
Thy kiss outweigh the weary ages past
Of hearts that brake for Thee.
. . . . . .
Yet now I know Thee as the hidden Bread,
The living One, who died--
Who sitteth at my table--by my bed--
Who walketh at my side.
I know Thee as the fountain of deep bliss,
Whereof one drop shall make
The joys of all the world as bitterness,
My Lord, for Thy sweet sake.
Lord, Thou hast loved me--and henceforth to me
Earth's noonday is but gloom;
My soul sails forth on the eternal sea,
And leaves the shore of doom.
I pass within the glory even now,
Where shapes and words are not,
For joy that passeth words, O Lord, art Thou,
A bliss that passeth thought.
I enter there, for Thou hast borne away
The burden of my sin;
With conscience clear as heaven's unclouded day
Thy courts I enter in.
Heaven now for me--for ever Christ and heaven--
The endless NOW begun--
No promise--but a gift eternal given,
Because the work is done.