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Thou who, houseless, sole, forlorn,
ANNA LÆTITIA BARBAULD.
Rocked in the Cradle of the Weep.
Rocked in the cradle of the deep,
The Watchman's Report.
WATCHMAN, tell us of the night
What its signs of promise are ! Traveller, o'er yon mountain's height
See that glory-beaming star! Watchman, does its beauteous ray
Aught of hope or joy foretell ? Traveller, yes; it brings the day
Promised day of Israel. Watchman, tell us of the night
Higher yet that star ascends! Traveller, blessedness and light,
Peace and truth, its course portends. Watchman, will its beams alone
Gild the spot that gave them birth ? Traveller, ages are its own
See, it bursts o'er all the earth!
Jesus, Lover of my Soul.
Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high. Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past : Safe into Thy haven guide
Oh, receive my soul at last.
Watchman, tell us of the night,
For the morning seems to dawn. Traveller, darkness takes its flight
Doubt and terror are withdrawn. Watchman, let thy wandering cease;
Hie thee to thy quiet home. Traveller, lo! the Prince of Peace – Lo! the Son of God is come.
Other refuge have I none
Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ; Leave, ah! leave me not alone
Still support and comfort me. All my trust on Thee is stayed,
All my help from Thee I bring; Cover my defenceless head
With the shadow of Thy wing.
I ask of Thee no wonders
No changing white or red; I dream not Thou art living,
I love and prize Thee dead. That salutary deadness
I seek through want and pain, From which God's own high power can bid Our virtue rise again.
JULIA WARD HOWE.
My Spirit Longeth for Thee.
Within my troubled breast,
Of so divine a Guest.
In the desert of the Holy Land I strayed,
Of so divine a Guest
Unworthy though I be, Yet has my heart no rest
Unless it come from Thee.