Alfred H. Miles, ed. The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century. 1907.
By The Fourth Commandment (The Dawn)Ada Cross (Cambridge) (18441926)
T
Breaks o’er the earth again
As some sweet summer morning
After a night of pain:
It comes as cooling showers
To some exhausted land;
As shade of clustered palm-trees
’Mid weary wastes of sand;
Across a stormy sea,
Revealing to the sailors
That Port where they would be,—
The calm and peaceful Haven,
The dazzling, golden shore,
The home of saints and angels,
Where sin is known no more.
Is merged in heavenly joy,
And trial changed to blessing
That foes may not destroy,—
When want is turned to fulness,
And weariness to rest;
And pain to wondrous rapture,
Upon the Saviour’s breast!
Though marred with earthly soil,
A week of earnest labour,
Of steady, faithful toil;
Fair fruits of self-denial,
Of strong, deep love to Thee,
Fostered by Thine own Spirit
In our humility.
Of sinful thought and deed,
At His dear Altar kneeling,
From bondage to be freed;
Our heart’s most bitter sorrow
For all Thy work undone—
So many talents wasted!
So few bright laurels won!
A steadfast faith, and sure,
And love so deep and fervent,
That tries to make it pure,—
In His dear Presence finding
The pardon that we need;
And then the peace so lasting—
Celestial peace indeed!
O may we evermore,
In Jesu’s holy Presence,
His blessèd Name adore!
Upon His peaceful Sabbath,
Within His temple-walls,—
Type of the stainless worship
In Zion’s golden halls;
We reach that Home at last
When life’s short week of sorrow
And sin and strife is past:
When Angel-hands have gathered
The fair, ripe fruit for Thee,
O Father, Lord, Redeemer,
Most Holy Trinity!