Classic Poem

THE SONG .

The Eastern portal glows:
The golden glittering doors
Melt now before the glorious sun, which pours
 A sanguine sea of light, and warmth, and mirth,
Till Heaven's great cup o'erflows
 And morning's red wine floods the rounded earth.

 Awake, O ye that sleep!
  Awake! Awake!!!
 But not to weep—
Tears must not flow to-day;
Let sorrow bide, fast-locked and hid away
  In some vast deep,
For Jesus' sake
  We pray
  Amen.

The merry winds astir—the hills are white;
What if the snow be cold
  And trees be bare?
  Cast off grim care,
For Night
Gives way to Hope and Life—and Light.

Bring forth the harp of gold.
It is of love we'll sing;
'Tis love alone can bring
A touch of joy upon this alien shore.
And He, our Brother—He that went before
Into that better land—
It was His dear command
That we love one another. Thus we best
Shall show our love for Him, and so be blessed
Each other's love to gain,
And life shall not be vain.

Of Love—of Love—and only Love to-day;
What though we lift to-morrow
The burthens of our sorrow,
All sad to-morrows soon shall pass away.
The hill-top spears of pine,
The naked clinging vine,
Yon slopes of gray;
The leafless dells, the meadows bleak and brown;
They trust God's mercy, though they must resign
The gifts they gathered when the summer smiled.

Love makes the soul divine;
Love cheers the heart like wine;
Love rears a palace in the desert wild;
Love mocks misfortune's frown;
Love bids the stars look down
  With kindlier eyes:
Love makes the child a man, the man a child;
Love paints the arching skies
  With tenderer hues;
Love lights our pathway when we fear to choose
  Amidst the gloom;
Love makes the brier to bloom
  With roses sweet;
Love bindeth sandals on our weary feet;
Then from our wondering ken
  Hate's blindness flies:
Love makes the foolish wise;
Love lifts us—gifts us—makes us gods again—
  Leads us to Paradise.

THE PRAYER .

O, Jesus Christus, rise from Thy white throne;
 Come back to earth once more—be born again—
Not as before—to die—cursed and alone—
 Forsaken on the Cross—despised of men—
With grief and sorrows bent.
  Come in Thy might
  On clouds of light.

But Brother still—still loving all mankind—
With balm for wounded hearts, and for the mind—
Celestial, sweet content;
Not shod with judgments, trampling on our fears—
But with Thine old compassion for our tears
And our long banishment.
Ah! gentle Master! In Thy love draw near
To each sad soul. We need Thy comforThere .