ALL SAINTS.
They are flocking from the East And the West, They are flocking from the North And the South, Every moment setting forth From realm of snake or lion, Swamp or sand, Ice or burning; Greatest and least, Palm in hand And praise in mouth, They are flocking up the path To their rest, Up the path that hath No returning.
Up the steeps of Zion They are mounting, Coming, coming, Throngs beyond man's counting; With a sound Like innumerable bees Swarming, humming Where flowering trees Many-tinted, Many-scented, All alike abound With honey,-- With a swell Like a blast upswaying unrestrainable From a shadowed dell To the hill-tops sunny,-- With a thunder Like the ocean when in strength Breadth and length It sets to shore; More and more Waves on waves redoubled pour Leaping flashing to the shore (Unlike the under Drain of ebb that loseth ground For all its roar.)
They are thronging From the East and West, From the North and South, Saints are thronging, loving, longing, To their land Of rest, Palm in hand And praise in mouth.
"TAKE CARE OF HIM."
"Thou whom I love, for whom I died, Lovest thou Me, My bride?"-- Low on my knees I love Thee, Lord, Believed in and adored.
"That I love thee the proof is plain: How dost thou love again?"-- In prayer, in toil, in earthly loss, In a long-carried cross.
"Yea, thou dost love: yet one adept Brings more for Me to accept."-- I mould my will to match with Thine, My wishes I resign.
"Thou givest much: then give the whole For solace of My soul."-- More would I give, if I could get: But, Lord, what lack I yet?
"In Me thou lovest Me: I call Thee to love Me in all."-- Brim full my heart, dear Lord, that so My love may overflow.
"Love Me in sinners and in saints, In each who needs or faints."-- Lord, I will love Thee as I can In every brother man.
"All sore, all crippled, all who ache, Tend all for My dear sake."-- All for Thy sake, Lord: I will see In every sufferer, Thee.
"So I at last, upon My Throne Of glory, Judge alone, So I at last will say to thee: Thou diddest it to Me."