ISAAC.
59
In love's deep fount of treasures
Such precious tilings are stored;
Laid up for wayside watchers,
Who wait upon the Lord."
Such precious tilings are stored;
Laid up for wayside watchers,
Who wait upon the Lord."
ISAAC.
"Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear Him. For He knoweth our frame; He remembereth that we are dust."—Psalm ciii. 13, 14.
Not within thy heart's best chamber,
In fond memory's fragrant amber,
Hoard the treasure God hath given;
For the moth of time will fray it,
And the rust of earth decay it:
Lay thy loved one up—in heaven.
In fond memory's fragrant amber,
Hoard the treasure God hath given;
For the moth of time will fray it,
And the rust of earth decay it:
Lay thy loved one up—in heaven.
He who lent it safe can keep it:
While He sees thee over-weep it,
Will He spurn thy sob of sorrow?
Tenderly He bendeth o'er thee;
Forty-fold He will restore thee,
In the cloudless land—to-morrow.
While He sees thee over-weep it,
Will He spurn thy sob of sorrow?
Tenderly He bendeth o'er thee;
Forty-fold He will restore thee,
In the cloudless land—to-morrow.
Up the mountain—slowly—slowly,
For the sacrifice is holy:
Doth He call dead hearts to follow?
For the sacrifice is holy:
Doth He call dead hearts to follow?
