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Poetry.

Tllti ROUND Ob' LIEE.

Tho year rolls round, with many a cloud; morn | That slowly ushers in tlio coming day ; ' Wo wiiko trom sleep of dim forgetfiiiness Or aimless dreams, the soul's wild wander i»K> To rise, and meet the old familiar tasks That with the morning light resume thei place, And call on us to give them patient heed And thoughtful toil ; and so the short-livec hours Fass quickly by, whilst we are plodding on; And soon the dusky shades descend again To cradle us within tho arms of night. The year rolls round, with other day.' than these, With days that break tho calm monotony Seasons of hope, and fear, and joy, anc grief, When the deep-flowing waters of the heart Coino swelling to the surface ; when eacli pulse Beats with a full and quick reality. Yet these, too, have an end ;—again the tide Of quiet sameness ripples o'er our life, And so tho year advances to its close. And lo 1 another year before us stands, _ And fain our eager minds would question it: " What bringest thou ?" All ! know we not full well It brings tho same old days, the same old tasks, Yea, the same joys and griefs, though clothed, perchance, In other forms; and so our lifo goes by, And '' few and evil " are our days at best. Tho year rolls by, and though our little life Bo as a spark, that for a moment fleams And then is quenched, out of that little spark A soul looks forth upon the moving host With steadfast gazo still measuring tho past And glancing on to those that yet shall come. It marks the rise of nations, and their strife, Tho war, the desolation, and the curse ; The good so slow, so long developing, The evil bursting liko tho thunder's crash, And crowding wrongs into a moment's space ; Nor dares it hope that future years shall bring Immunity from crime and suffering; For till He cou.o who maketh all things new, What has been shall bo. Yet through nil tho years One great and changeless working shows itself, . Gleaming athwart the clouds of sinJand woe, With the bright glow of immortality ; But intertwined and woven in so close With human things, that oft our feeble „ . s 'B ht I'ails to discern it; yet 'tis ever there, Out of the complex and corrupted mass Shaping a new creation ; day by day Clasping fresh objects in its firm embrace, Its wondrous circle ever widening, Until He come whose hand hath wrought tho whole, To crown it with completion! 0 tor eyes Divinely touched, its glories to perceive ! 0 for a vision free from earthly stain To trace its all-triumphant way ! O let Thy work appear unto Thy servants, L<.rd ! And let its beauty shine into our hearts, And let us count each day a precious thing, Because that ceaseless work hath hallowed it ! Yet not alone with rapt and wondering gnzo Would we behold its progress; give us, Lord, A part in it ! O purge our hearts, our hands, Our lips, our every power, that we may share Thy blessed toil ; open our eyes to see In all Thy hand appoints for us to do Oleums (if its radiaucu : thus our life no more Shall seem but as a vain and aimless thing, But as a priceless gift—the right and power To view and share the glories of Thy work ! —Gkiut.dinf. Stock. COMING. It may be in the evening When tho work of the day is done, Ant] you havo time to sit in.the twilight And watch the sinking sun, While the long bright day dies slowly Over the tea,; And the hour grows quiet and holy With thoughts of mo, Whilo you hear the village, children Passing along the street, Among those thronging footsteps May come the souii'.l of my feet; Therefore, I tell you, \\ atch ! By the light of the evening star, When the room is growing dusky As the clouds afar ; Let the door be on the latch In your home, For it may be through the gloaming I will come.

It may be when the midnight Is heavy upon the land, And the black waves lying dumbly Along the sand ; When the moonless night draws close, And the lights are out in the house; When the fires burn low and red, And the watch is ticking loudly Beside the bed ; Though you sleep tired out on your couch, Still yonr heart must wake and watch In the dark room, Tor it may be at midnight I will come.

It may bo at the cockcrow When the night is dying slowly In tho sky, And the sea looks calm and holy Waiting for tho dawn of the golden sun Which draweth nigh ; When the mists are on tho valleys, shading The rivers chill, And my morning star is fading, fading Over the hill; Behold, I say unto yon, Watch ! Let the door be on the latch In your home; In the chill before the dawning, Between the night and morning, I may come.

It may bo in tlio morning, When the sun is bright ;ind strong, And the dew is glittering sharply Over the little lawn ; When the waves are laughing loudly Along the shore, And the little birds arc singing sweetly About tho door. With the long day's work before you, You rise up with the sun, And tho neighbours come in to talk a little Of all that must be done ; But remoinbor that I may be the next To come in at the door, To call you from your busy work For evermore. As you work your heart must watch, I'or the door is on tho latch, In your room, And it may be in the morning I will coine.

So I am watching quietly Kvery day, When tho sun shines brightly I rise and saySurely it is the shining of His face, And look unto tho gates of Mis high place Beyond the sea, For I know Ho is coming shortly To summon me. And then a shadow falls across the window Of my room, Where I am working my appointed task I lift mv head to watch tho door and ask If He is coin.: : And an angel answers sweetly, In my homeOnly a few more shadows And He will come. B, M,

Permanent link to this item
Hononga pūmau ki tēnei tūemi

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/WT18881229.2.35.2

Bibliographic details
Ngā taipitopito pukapuka

Waikato Times, Volume XXXI, Issue 2570, 29 December 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Word count
Tapeke kupu
1,064

Poetry. Waikato Times, Volume XXXI, Issue 2570, 29 December 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

Poetry. Waikato Times, Volume XXXI, Issue 2570, 29 December 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

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