27.12.2010, 12:11
A NON-NATURAL ASCENSION AND WHIT-SUNDAY.
Christ leaves to-day the little gazing crowd
Upon the Mount, as straight to Heaven He fares ;
O ! let us follow Him with hymns and prayers
Up to the skirts of that receiving cloud ;
But lo ! the preacher hath no hope, no trust,
Nor can he, 'mid our coming Whitsun songs,
Make common cause with all those fiery tongues
That hail the glories of the Pentecost ;
But, if he ever thought it joy to meet
The faithful—if that memory thrills him yet-
Full surely must he feel some fond regret.
At parting with a creed so grand and sweet ;
A grief, as when forsaken Olivet
RoU'd sadly from beneath the Saviour's feet.
Christ leaves to-day the little gazing crowd
Upon the Mount, as straight to Heaven He fares ;
O ! let us follow Him with hymns and prayers
Up to the skirts of that receiving cloud ;
But lo ! the preacher hath no hope, no trust,
Nor can he, 'mid our coming Whitsun songs,
Make common cause with all those fiery tongues
That hail the glories of the Pentecost ;
But, if he ever thought it joy to meet
The faithful—if that memory thrills him yet-
Full surely must he feel some fond regret.
At parting with a creed so grand and sweet ;
A grief, as when forsaken Olivet
RoU'd sadly from beneath the Saviour's feet.