Hark! these sounds of joy and mirth,
Telling of a heavenly birth;
Hark! these long triumphant chords,
Triumph more than earth affords;
Say, what may the meaning be
Of such untold ecstasy?
Wouldest thou know the secret spring
Of this gladsome reveling?
Find it in a Father’s heart,
From a son no more to part;
Find it in the sweet surprise
Echoing welcome through the skies.
Lonely wanderer no more,
Exiled on a distant shore;
“Lost” and “dead” but yesterday;
“Found,” “alive,” at home today;—
Is not meet that there should be
Sound of gladdest minstrelsy?
Holy Father I long above
Didst Thou wait to show Thy love;
Justice, holiness, and power,
All of these have had their hour:
But Thy love, though sometimes seen,
Manifested had not been.
Now the Father’s heart of grace,
Seen at length in Jesus’ face;
Father’s arms are opened wide,—
Prodigals are reconciled;
And of right there now may be,
Feast, and robe, and revelry!
Heaven’s vaults and arches ring
With the praise the angels bring;
Countless myriads adore,
Of His grace the wondrous store;
But the Father’s heart must prove
All the joy of conqu’ring love.
Give us hearts, Thou Blessed One,
To Thy love and grace to own,
That in us for Thee may be
Springs of truest sympathy;
We Thy holy joy would share,
We would have our portion there.
Every wanderer homeward bound,
Every “piece of money” found,
Every “sheep “within the fold,
Is to Thee a joy untold;
We would “friends and neighbors” be,
When Thou say’st, “Rejoice with me,”
—R.M.