Hymn 63
I.
Lord, in the chariot of thy work,
Ride forth with pow'r thy name to spread;
Give speed unto thy gospel sword,
Through these dark regions of the dead,
II.
" Lo, saith the Saviour, here I am,
" With all my vesture dip'd in blood;
" The FREE PHYSICIAN is my name,
" Seeking to do the needy good.
III.
" I love to feed the hungry poor,
" To heal the sick and raise the dead;
" I love to see them crowd my door,
" That I my boundless love may spread.
IV.
" I love to set those pris'ners free,
" That are in debt and nought to pay;
" No guilty soul that comes to me,
" Shall ever go condemn'd away.
V.
" Now where's your guilty, weak and poor,
" Your sick, your deaf, your dead, your blind,
" Call each by name around my door,
" And they shall all a helper find. "
VI.
Lord, saith the poor and trembling soul,
I come with all my wants to thee;
My sins forgive, my wounds make whole,
And from my bondage set me free.
VII.
" Then, saith the Lord, the work is done,
" It was for you I bled and died;
" Cast all thy wants on me alone,
" And all thy wants shall be supply'd. "
VIII.
O, saith the soul, my Christ is mine!
I feel thy grace, I love thy name,
And I will be forever thine,
O Lord to sound thy worthy fame.
IX.
Hossana! let the christians join,
A soul is added to our band;
And welcome soul, the prize is thine,
To reign with us at Christ's right hand.
X.
Amen, with joy our souls shall sing,
And let the fame resound abroad;
Amen, all glory to our king,
A soul is born to Christ our GOD .
1
The old elmtrees flock round the tiled farmstead; their silver-bellied leaves dance in the wind. Beneath their shade, in the corner of the Green, is a pond. In Winter it is full of water, green with weeds: in Spring a lily will open there.
The ducks waddle in the mud and sail in circles round the pond, or preen their feathers on the bank.
But in Summer the pond is dry, and its bed is glossy and baked by the sun, a beautiful soft colour like the skins of the moles they catch and crucify on the stable doors.
On the green the fowls pick grains, or chatter and fight. Their yellows, whites and browns, the metallic lustre of their darker feathers, and the crimson splash of their combs make an ever-changing pattern on the grass.
They drink with spasmodic upreaching necks by the side of the well.
Under the stones by the well live green lizards curious to our eyes.
The path from the well leads to a garden door set in the high wall whereon grow plums and apricots. The door is deep and narrow and opens on to paths bordered with box-hedges; one path leads through the aromatic currant bushes, beneath the plum-trees, to the lawn where grows the wonder of our day-dreams, the monkey's puzzle-tree. On the other side of the lawn three fir-trees rise sharply to the sky, their dark shades homing a few birds.
Beyond is the orchard, and down its avenues of mould-smitten trees the path leads to the paddocks, with their mushrooms and fairy-rings, and to the flatlands that stretch to the girding hills.
2
The farm is distant from the high-road
half a mile.
The child of the farm
does not realize it for several years.
He wanders through the orchard
finds mushrooms in the paddock
or beetles in the pond.
But one day he goes to the high-road,
sees carts and carriages pass
and men go marketing.
A traction engine crashes into his vision
with flame and smoke
and makes his eager soul retreat.
He turns away:
The huntsmen are galloping over the fields,
their red coats and the swift whimpering hounds.
Lord, in the chariot of thy work,
Ride forth with pow'r thy name to spread;
Give speed unto thy gospel sword,
Through these dark regions of the dead,
II.
" Lo, saith the Saviour, here I am,
" With all my vesture dip'd in blood;
" The FREE PHYSICIAN is my name,
" Seeking to do the needy good.
III.
" I love to feed the hungry poor,
" To heal the sick and raise the dead;
" I love to see them crowd my door,
" That I my boundless love may spread.
IV.
" I love to set those pris'ners free,
" That are in debt and nought to pay;
" No guilty soul that comes to me,
" Shall ever go condemn'd away.
V.
" Now where's your guilty, weak and poor,
" Your sick, your deaf, your dead, your blind,
" Call each by name around my door,
" And they shall all a helper find. "
VI.
Lord, saith the poor and trembling soul,
I come with all my wants to thee;
My sins forgive, my wounds make whole,
And from my bondage set me free.
VII.
" Then, saith the Lord, the work is done,
" It was for you I bled and died;
" Cast all thy wants on me alone,
" And all thy wants shall be supply'd. "
VIII.
O, saith the soul, my Christ is mine!
I feel thy grace, I love thy name,
And I will be forever thine,
O Lord to sound thy worthy fame.
IX.
Hossana! let the christians join,
A soul is added to our band;
And welcome soul, the prize is thine,
To reign with us at Christ's right hand.
X.
Amen, with joy our souls shall sing,
And let the fame resound abroad;
Amen, all glory to our king,
A soul is born to Christ our GOD .
1
The old elmtrees flock round the tiled farmstead; their silver-bellied leaves dance in the wind. Beneath their shade, in the corner of the Green, is a pond. In Winter it is full of water, green with weeds: in Spring a lily will open there.
The ducks waddle in the mud and sail in circles round the pond, or preen their feathers on the bank.
But in Summer the pond is dry, and its bed is glossy and baked by the sun, a beautiful soft colour like the skins of the moles they catch and crucify on the stable doors.
On the green the fowls pick grains, or chatter and fight. Their yellows, whites and browns, the metallic lustre of their darker feathers, and the crimson splash of their combs make an ever-changing pattern on the grass.
They drink with spasmodic upreaching necks by the side of the well.
Under the stones by the well live green lizards curious to our eyes.
The path from the well leads to a garden door set in the high wall whereon grow plums and apricots. The door is deep and narrow and opens on to paths bordered with box-hedges; one path leads through the aromatic currant bushes, beneath the plum-trees, to the lawn where grows the wonder of our day-dreams, the monkey's puzzle-tree. On the other side of the lawn three fir-trees rise sharply to the sky, their dark shades homing a few birds.
Beyond is the orchard, and down its avenues of mould-smitten trees the path leads to the paddocks, with their mushrooms and fairy-rings, and to the flatlands that stretch to the girding hills.
2
The farm is distant from the high-road
half a mile.
The child of the farm
does not realize it for several years.
He wanders through the orchard
finds mushrooms in the paddock
or beetles in the pond.
But one day he goes to the high-road,
sees carts and carriages pass
and men go marketing.
A traction engine crashes into his vision
with flame and smoke
and makes his eager soul retreat.
He turns away:
The huntsmen are galloping over the fields,
their red coats and the swift whimpering hounds.
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