THOU THAT SLEEPEST NOT AFRAID.

“Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light.”

Thou that sleepest not afraid,
Men and angels thee upbraid;
Rise, cry, cry to God aloud,
Ere the swift hours weave thy shroud: 
    O, for Jesus’ sake,
        Wake!

Thee full ill doth it beseem
Through the dark to drowse and dream;
In the dead-time of the night
Here is One can give thee light: 
    O, for Jesus’ sake,
        Wake!

The year passeth—­it and all
God shall take and shall let fall
Soon, into the whelming sea
Of His wide eternity: 
    O, for Jesus’ sake,
        Wake!

Noiseless as the flakes of snow
The last moments falter and go;
The time-angel sent this way
Sweeps them like a drift away: 
    O, for Jesus’ sake,
        Wake!

Loved and watch’d of heaven, for whom
The crowned Saviour there makes room,
Sleeper, hark!  He calls thee, rise,
Lift thy head, and raise thine eyes! 
    Now, for Jesus’ sake,
        Wake!

NOW WINTER PAST, THE WHITE-THORN BOWER.

“Thy gentleness hath made me great.”

Now winter past, the white-thorn bower
  Breaks forth and buds down all the glen;
Now spreads the leaf and grows the flower: 
  So grows the life of God, in men.

Oh, my child-God, most gentle King,
  To me Thy waxing glory show;
Wake in my heart as wakes the spring,
  Grow as the leaf and lily grow.

I was a child, when Thou a child
  Didst make Thyself again to me;
And holy, harmless, undefiled,
  Play’d at Thy mother Mary’s knee.

Thou gav’st Thy pure example so,
  The copy in my childish breast
Was a child’s copy.  I did know
  God, made in childhood manifest.

Now I am grown, and Thou art grown
  The God-man, strong to love, to will,
Who was alone, yet not alone,
  Held in His Father’s presence still.

Now do I know Thee for my cure,
  My peace, the Absolver for me set;
Thy goings pass through deeps obscure,
  But Thou with me art gentle yet.

Long-suffering Lord, to man reveal’d
  As One that e’en the child doth wait,
Thy full salvation is my shield,
  Thy gentleness hath made me great.

SUCH AS HAVE NOT GOLD TO BRING THEE.

“Ye also, as lively stones, are built up a spiritual house.”

Such as have not gold to bring Thee,
  They bring thanks—­Thy grateful sons;
Such as have no song to sing Thee,
  Live Thee praise—­Thy silent ones.

Such as have their unknown dwelling,
  Secret from Thy children here,
Known of Thee, will Thee be telling
  How Thy ways with them are dear.