THERE is no roof in all the world,
Of palace or of cot,
That hideth not some burdened heart
Nigh breaking for its lot!
The earth is filled with pain, and tears,
And closer draws the gloom;
And light or balm there can be none
Till Christ, the Lord, shall come. O morn, when like a summer bird
My spirit shall go free,—
When I shall see thee as thou art,
And be, my God, like thee!
Like-thee! Like thee! all spotless white—
This heart, this will, as thine!—
O love of God, O blood of Christ!
O grace, and power divine! My Saviour, who doth know the thirst
The longing spirit feels,—
O Bridegroom, now so long afar,
Why stay thy chariot-wheels?
Were ever eyes so dim with tears,
Breasts so oppressed with care?
Did ever hearts so yearn to catch
Thy whisper from the air? Thou lonely one, lift up thy head!
Array thee for the feast!
He that hath tarried long is near!
The glow is in the east!
O Morning Star, so soon to lead
Thy chosen one away,—
O Sun of Righteousness, bring in
The everlasting day!
—Day Dawn.