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Nearer Home

3563

NEARER HOME

ONE Sweetly solemn thought
Comes to me o'er and o'er;

I am nearer home to-day

Than I ever have been before;

Nearer my Father's house,

Where the many mansions be; Nearer the great white throne, Nearer the crystal sea;

Nearer the bound of life,

Where we lay our burdens down;

Nearer leaving the cross!

Nearer gaining the crown!

But lying darkly between,

Winding down through the night,
Is the silent, unknown stream,
That leads at last to the light.

Closer and closer my steps

Come to the dread abysm:

Closer Death to my lips

Presses the awful chrism.

Oh, if my mortal feet

Have almost gained the brink;

If it be I am nearer home

Even to-day than I think;

Father, perfect my trust;

Let my spirit feel in death,
That her feet are firmly set
On the rock of a living faith!

Phoebe Cary [1824-1871]

"ONWARD, CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS!"

ONWARD, Christian soldiers!

Marching as to war,
With the Cross of Jesus

Going on before.

Christ the Royal Master
Leads against the foe;
Forward into battle,

See, His banners go!

Onward, Christian soldiers!
Marching as to war,
With the Cross of Jesus
Going on before.

At the sign of triumph

Satan's host doth flee;

On, then, Christian soldiers,
On to victory!

Hell's foundations quiver

At the shout of praise;
Brothers, lift your voices,
Loud your anthems raise!

Like a mighty army

Moves the Church of God;
Brothers, we are treading

Where the Saints have trod;

We are not divided

All one body we,

One in hope and doctrine,

One in charity.

Crowns and thrones may perish,

Kingdoms rise and wane,
But the Church of Jesus

Constant will remain;

Gates of hell can never

'Gainst that Church prevail; We have Christ's own promise,

And that cannot fail.

"Onward, Christian Soldiers!" 3565

Onward, then, ye people!
Join our happy throng,
Blend with ours your voices
In the triumph song;
Glory, laud, and honor

Unto Christ the King,
This through countless ages
Men and angels sing.

Onward, Christian soldiers!

Marching as to war,
With the Cross of Jesus

Going on before.

Sabine Baring-Gould [1834

My new-cut ashlar takes the light
Where crimson-blank the windows flare;
By my own work, before the night,
Great Overseer, I make my prayer.

If there be good in that I wrought,

Thy hand compelled it, Master, Thine; Where I have failed to meet Thy thought I know, through Thee, the blame is mine.

One instant's toil to Thee denied

Stands all Eternity's offence; Of that I did with Thee to guide

To Thee, through Thee, be excellence.

Who, lest all thought of Eden fade,
Bringest Eden to the craftman's brain,
Godlike to muse o'er his own trade
And manlike stand with God again.

The depth and dream of my desire,
The bitter paths wherein I stray,

Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,
Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay.

One stone the more swings to her place
In that dread Temple of Thy worth—
It is enough that through Thy grace

I saw naught common on Thy earth.

Take not that vision from my ken;

O, whatso'er may spoil or speed, Help me to need no aid from men, That I may help such men as need!

Rudyard Kipling [1865

APPENDIX

CONTAINING A FEW OF THE MORE FAMOUS
POEMS IN OTHER LANGUAGES, OF WHICH
TRANSLATIONS OR PARAPHRASES OC-
CUR IN THE FOREGOING PAGES

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