The book of sacred song . e :Where the child has found its mother, Where the mother finds the child,Where dear families are gatherd That were scatterd on the wild : —Brother, we shall meet and restMid the holy and the blest. 268 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Where the hidden wound is healed, Where the blighted life re-blooms,Where the smitten heart the freshness Of its buoyant youth resumes :Where the love that here we lavish On the withering leaves of time,Shall have fadeless flowers to fix on, In an ever spring-bright clime :Where we find the joy of loving As we never loved before,Loving on, unch
The book of sacred song . e :Where the child has found its mother, Where the mother finds the child,Where dear families are gatherd That were scatterd on the wild : —Brother, we shall meet and restMid the holy and the blest. 268 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Where the hidden wound is healed, Where the blighted life re-blooms,Where the smitten heart the freshness Of its buoyant youth resumes :Where the love that here we lavish On the withering leaves of time,Shall have fadeless flowers to fix on, In an ever spring-bright clime :Where we find the joy of loving As we never loved before,Loving on, unchilPd, unhindered, Loving once and evermore :— Brother, we shall meet and restMid the holy and the blest. Where a blasted world shall brighten Underneath a bluer sphere,And a softer, gentler sunshine Shed its healing splendour here;Where earths barren vales shall blossom, Putting on their robe of green,And a purer, fairer Eden, Be where only wastes have been :Where a King in kingly glory, Such as earth has never known,. modern: living writers. 269 Shall assume the righteous sceptre,Claim and wear the holy crown :— Brethren, we shall meet and restMid the holy and the blest. Bonar. HOW LONG, O LORD \ Y God, it is not fretfulness That makes me say u How long ?It is not heaviness of heartThat hinders me in song;Tis not despair of truth and right,Nor coward dread of wrong. But how can I, with such a hope Of glory and of home ;With such a joy before my eyes, Not wish the time were come,—Of years the jubilee,— of days The sabbath and the sum ? These years, what ages they have been ! This life, how long it seems!And how can I, in evil days, Mid unknown hills and streams, 27° THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. But sigh for those of home and heart,And visit them in dreams ? Yet, peace, my heart, and hush, my tongue; Be calm, my troubled breast;Each restless hour is hastening on The everlasting rest;Thou knowest that th? time thy God Appoints for thee, is best. Let faith, not fear nor fre
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