Pulpit and Press

Pulpit and Press

Hymns

BY REV. MARY BAKER EDDY
16[Set to the Church Chimes and Sung on This Occasion]

Laying the Corner-stone

          Laus Deo, it is done!
          Rolled away from loving heart
                  Is a stone.
          Joyous, risen, we depart
                  Having one.


          Laus Deo, — on this rock
          (Heaven chiselled squarely good)
                  Stands His church, —
          God is Love, and understood
                  By His flock.


          Laus Deo, night starlit
          Slumbers not in God’s embrace;
                  Then, O man!
          Like this stone, be in thy place;
                  Stand, not sit.


          Cold, silent, stately stone,
          Dirge and song and shoutings low,
                  In thy heart
          Dwell serene, — and sorrow? No,
                  It has none,
                  Laus Deo!


17“Feed My Sheep”

          Shepherd, show me how to go
              O’er the hillside steep,
          How to gather, how to sow, —
              How to feed Thy sheep;
          I will listen for Thy voice,
              Lest my footsteps stray;
          I will follow and rejoice
              All the rugged way.


          Thou wilt bind the stubborn will,
              Wound the callous breast,
          Make self-righteousness be still,
              Break earth’s stupid rest.
          Strangers on a barren shore,
              Lab’ring long and lone —
          We would enter by the door,
              And Thou know’st Thine own.


          So, when day grows dark and cold,
              Tear or triumph harms,
          Lead Thy lambkins to the fold,
              Take them in Thine arms;
          Feed the hungry, heal the heart,
              Till the morning’s beam;
          White as wool, ere they depart —
              Shepherd, wash them clean.


18Christ My Refuge

      O’er waiting harpstrings of the mind
              There sweeps a strain,
      Low, sad, and sweet, whose measures bind
              The power of pain.


      And wake a white-winged angel throng
              Of thoughts, illumed
      By faith, and breathed in raptured song,
              With love perfumed.


      Then His unveiled, sweet mercies show
              Life’s burdens light.
      I kiss the cross, and wake to know
              A world more bright.


      And o’er earth’s troubled, angry sea
              I see Christ walk,
      And come to me, and tenderly,
              Divinely talk.


      Thus Truth engrounds me on the rock,
              Upon Life’s shore;
      ’Gainst which the winds and waves can shock,
              Oh, nevermore!


      From tired joy and grief afar,
              And nearer Thee, —
      Father, where Thine own children are,
              I love to be.

19      My prayer, some daily good to do
              To Thine, for Thee;
      An offering pure of Love, whereto
              God leadeth me.