Songs in the twilight . RE, DOMINE! ^^ESU, Thy mercy we implore, The tempest swells, the winds are high,^-^ The troubled waters chafe and roar,And clouds are darkening oer the suppliants we come to Thee;Miserere, Domine ! 0 Thou that on the bitter cross Didst bleed and die for human sin,Content to suffer pain and loss If mans redemption Thou mightst win ;To Thee for refuge, Lord, we flee;Miserere, Domine ! Oh ! fold us, Saviour, neath Thy wing, Oh ! shield us in Thy gracious love,Around us Thy broad shadows fling,And watch us from Thy heaven above ;Our Guardian and Protector be;Miserere
Songs in the twilight . RE, DOMINE! ^^ESU, Thy mercy we implore, The tempest swells, the winds are high,^-^ The troubled waters chafe and roar,And clouds are darkening oer the suppliants we come to Thee;Miserere, Domine ! 0 Thou that on the bitter cross Didst bleed and die for human sin,Content to suffer pain and loss If mans redemption Thou mightst win ;To Thee for refuge, Lord, we flee;Miserere, Domine ! Oh ! fold us, Saviour, neath Thy wing, Oh ! shield us in Thy gracious love,Around us Thy broad shadows fling,And watch us from Thy heaven above ;Our Guardian and Protector be;Miserere, Domine ! MISERERE, DOMIXE! 103 Once Thou didst hush the angry wind,And lull the waves in tranquil sleep;The tempests fury Thou didst bind,To show Thy power upon the deep; Didst Thou not walk the stormy sea ?Miserere, Doniine ! Then hold us safe within Thy hand,And bring us to the farther shore;We fain would reach that happy landWhere storms will threaten never have no hope, Lord, but in Thee;Miserere, Domine !. ( 104 ) THE CHALLENGE TO THE SWORD. O thou sword of the Lord, how long will it be ere thou be quiet?Put up thyself into thy scabbard; rest, and be still.— 6. § SWORD of the Lord, wilt thou never be still?How long wilt thou flash to destroy and to kill ?Return to the scabbard: rest, rest in the sheath !Wilt thou never have done with the dark work of death ? O sword of the Lord, must the shriek rend the air,The cry of the widow and child in despair ?Must the vineyard be wasted, the field trampled down,And the festering dead choke the streets of the town ? Wilt thou never be sated with blood of the slain, The moans of their anguish, their wounds, and their pain ?Are the harvests this green earth is ever to yieldRed harvests reaped down in the fierce battlefield ? THE CHALLENGE TO THE SWORD. 105 Sick at heart with thy triumphs, we ask thee how longWilt thou mow down the young, and the brave, and the strong ?Are TTars carnage and carnival never to cease
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, booksubjectenglishpoetry, bookye
