The night is dark
And earth is weary with its long deep groan;
The church, once ardent in its fair first love,
Lies broken in a ruin of its own-
Few wake to know and own its low estate;
And Satan's power is great.
The sun, that set on Calvary long ago,
Keeps vigil o'er the night " far spent;"
While bright and high above all clouds I see
The Morning Star
('Tie nothing to the world, it sees it not)
Which shines in all its beauty for faith's eye-
Aye shines within the Christian's throbbing breast,
And sheds its light as harbinger of rest.
The watch will soon be past,
For night is passing fast
The shadows deep and wide that strew the path-
Hide not the Star."
They'll flee, and in their lengthened track shall flow
Deep tides of woe:
While He who is the "Morning Star " will come
For those who love and hail the Savior near-
Blest issue to the desert dark and drear.
But stay, and let the watchman yet be heard;
Hath he no other solemn weighty word?
Yes, hark! there stands outside the door
The "Faithful Witness," (He hath knocked before)
He stands, He knocks, He waits in patient grace:
Wilt thou not ope the door and give Him place?
He'll bring a feast and sup with thee,
And saith (Oh wondrous grace), " and he with Me!"
He'll tell thee all His heart
And give, e'en now, in night's dark closing hour
The joy oy of His own love.
His strength too He will give
And bear thee onward for His own name's sake:
The spring of love in Him to find unchanged,
And keep thee from the state that He doth hate
Of " neither cold nor hot."