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115 |
6,5,6,5
taV edraV taV aiwniaV.
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Those eternal bowers Man hath never trod, Those unfading flowers Round the Throne of GOD: Who may hope to gain them After weary fight? Who at length attain them Clad in robes of white? | |
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He, who gladly barters All on earthly ground; He who, like the Martyrs, Says, 'I WILL be crowned:' He, whose one oblation Is a life of love; Clinging to the nation Of the Blest above. | |
Shame upon you, legions Of the Heavenly King, Denizens of regions Past imagining! What! with pipe and tabor Fool away the light, When He bids you labour,-- When He tells you,--'Fight!' | |
While I do my duty, Struggling through the tide, Whisper Thou of beauty On the other side! Tell who will the story Of our now distress: Oh the future glory! Oh the loveliness! |
[No. 3 in H. E. C. A very sweet melody.]
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118 |
The four following Odes are the first four of our Saint's Canon for S. Thomas's Sunday, called also Renewal Sunday: with us Low Sunday. The first Stanzas are marked with inverted commas, as being Hirmoi.