The book of sacred song . rning,On defenceless innocenceAll thy fury turning ?Other than thou hast in mind,,An avenger shalt thou find. Christ is now at hand, behold, Who His power defieth ?Where is now pursuer bold ? On the earth he lieth :And Christs armed foe een nowShall as Christs meek herald go. He, wliOj filld with threatnings, sped, Chains and death preparing;By a gentle hand is led, With a child-like bearing; 298 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Like a raging wolf he came,But he goes a gentle lamb. Lord, mens hearts in sternest mood Open lie before Thee;He who in Thy childrens blood, Would bl
The book of sacred song . rning,On defenceless innocenceAll thy fury turning ?Other than thou hast in mind,,An avenger shalt thou find. Christ is now at hand, behold, Who His power defieth ?Where is now pursuer bold ? On the earth he lieth :And Christs armed foe een nowShall as Christs meek herald go. He, wliOj filld with threatnings, sped, Chains and death preparing;By a gentle hand is led, With a child-like bearing; 298 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. Like a raging wolf he came,But he goes a gentle lamb. Lord, mens hearts in sternest mood Open lie before Thee;He who in Thy childrens blood, Would blot out Thy glory,With His blood shall it rehearseThrough the boundless universe. Praise the Father, by whose might Life to us is given;And the Son, by whose blest light We are born to heaven;And the Spirit, by whose breathWe are saved from endless death. From the Latin. OH ! THAT I HAD WINGS LIKE A DOVE V9 Y soul, amid this stormy world, Is like some fluttered dove;And fain would be as swift of wing,To flee to Him I MODERN t ANONYMOUS. 299 The cords that bound my heart to earth Are broken by His hand :Before His cross I found myself, A stranger in the land. That visage marrM, those sorrows deep, The vinegar and gall,Were Jesus* golden chains of love His captive to enthral! My heart is with Him on His throne, And ill can brook delay;Each moment listening for the voice,— Rise up, and come away. With hope deferred, oft sick and faint, Why tarries He ? I cry ;And should my Saviour chide my haste, Sure I could make reply. May not an exile, Lord, desire, His own sweet land to see ?May not a captive seek release,— A prisoner to be free ? A child, when far away, may longFor home and kindred dear : 3°0 THE BOOK OF SACRED SONG. And she that waits her absent LordMay sigh till He appear. I would, my Lord and Saviour, know,That which no measure knows; Would search the mystery of Thy love,-The depth of all Thy woes. THE MAID IS NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPETH. EFT in her little room alone
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