5 Follow the Cross, the ark of peace
Accompany your path;
To slaves and sinners bring release
From bondage and from wrath.
6 Uplifted are the gates of brass;
The bars of iron yield;
Behold the King of Glory pass;
The Cross hath won the field.
1 Assembled at Thy great command,
Here in Thy presence, Lord, we stand;
The voice that marshalled every star
Has called Thy people from afar.
2 We meet through distant lands to spread The Truth for which the Martyrs bled; Along the line, to either pole,
The thunders of Thy praise to roll.
3 Our prayers assist: accept our praise:
Our hopes revive; our courage raise ;
Our counsels aid; to each impart
The single eye, the faithful heart.
4 Forth with Thy chosen heralds come;
Recal the wandering spirits home;
From Zion's mount send forth the sound,
To spread the spacious world around.
"To the Father, through the Son,"
Did the ancient ritual run:
So the Christian prayer was said,
So the Christian vow was paid.
Was the suppliant bending low,
Where the Nile's broad waters flow?
Joined he in the choral praise,
Which the Seven Churches raise?
Worshipped he in gloom and fear,
Roman soldiers lingering near?
Still that holy prayer was one,
'To the Father, through the Son."
Years have come, and years have gone,
And the Church no more is one;
Broken now the bonds of love:
Flown the peace-bestowing dove:
Broken now Christ's cup divine,
Spilled the Sacramental wine.
Other prayers to Heaven arise,
Swell the new-made Litanies,
Single homage no more given
To the Father-God of Heaven.
Only, hoping, watching still,
Lonely light on lonely hill,
Scattered Churches here and there,
Echo the old Church's prayer,
Pray, as when the Church was one,
"To the Father, through the Son."
Years will come, when years have past,
When God's Truth grows clear at last;
When the broken links again
Clasp in one unbroken chain;
When to all one Grace is poured,
From the chalice of the Lord;
When from vast cathedral-pile,
When from far-off coral isle,
From the ladder angels tread,
From the dying infant's bed,
Rises one united prayer,
Ringing through the ringing air,
And that prayer the same
"To the Father, through the Son."
1 Thousands, O Lord of Hosts, this day,
Around Thine altar meet;
And tens of thousands throng to pay
Their homage at Thy feet.
2 They see Thy power and glory there,
As I have seen them too;
They read, they hear, they join in prayer, As I was wont to do.
3 They sing Thy deeds, as I have sung,
In sweet and solemn lays;
Were I among them, my glad tongue
Might learn new themes of praise.
4 I, of such fellowship bereft,
In spirit turn to Thee;
Oh! hast Thou not a blessing left,
A blessing, Lord, for me?
5 The dew lies thick on all the ground;
Shall my poor fleece be dry?
The manna rains from heaven around;
Shall I of hunger die?
6 Behold Thy prisoner! loose my bands,
If 't is Thy gracious will:
If not, contented in Thy hands,
Behold Thy prisoner still!
7 I may not to Thy courts repair,
Yet here Thou surely art;
Lord! consecrate a house of prayer
In my surrendered heart!
1 Though wandering in a stranger-land,
Though on the waste no altar stand,
Take comfort, thou art not alone,
While Faith hath marked thee for her own.
2 Wouldst thou a Temple? look above,
The Heavens stretch over all in love:
A Book? for thine Evangile scan
The wondrous history of Man.
3 The holy band of saints renowned
Embrace thee, brother-like, around;
Their sufferings and their triumphs rise
In hymns immortal to the skies.
4 And though no organ-peal be heard,
In harmony the winds are stirred;
And there the morning stars upraise
Their ancient song of deathless praise.
10 Thou, the primal fount of life and peace,
Who shedd'st Thy breathing quiet all around,
In me command that pain and conflict cease,
And tune to music every jarring sound.
2 Make Thou in me, O God, through shame and pain,
A heart attuned to Thy celestial calm;
Let not the spirit's pangs be roused in vain, But heal the wounded breast with soothing balm. 3 So, firm in steadfast hope, in thought secure, In full accord with all Thy works of Joy, May I be nerved to labours high and pure, And Thou Thy child to do Thy work employ. 4 In One who walked on earth, a Man of woe, Was holier peace than even this hour inspires; From him to me let inward quiet flow,
And give the might my failing will requires.
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