They are flocking from the East
And the West,
They are flocking from the North
And the South,
Every moment setting forth
From realm of snake or lion,
Swamp or sand,
Ice or burning;
Greatest and least,
Palm in hand
And praise in mouth,
They are flocking up the path
To their rest,
Up the path that hath
No returning.
Up the steeps of Zion
They are mounting,
Coming, coming,
Throngs beyond man's counting;
With a sound
Like innumerable bees
Swarming, humming
Where flowering trees
Many-tinted,
Many-scented,
All alike abound
With honey,--
With a swell
Like a blast upswaying unrestrainable
From a shadowed dell
To the hill-tops sunny,--
With a thunder
Like the ocean when in strength
Breadth and length
It sets to shore;
More and more
Waves on waves redoubled pour
Leaping flashing to the shore
(Unlike the under
Drain of ebb that loseth ground
For all its roar.)
They are thronging
From the East and West,
From the North and South,
Saints are thronging, loving, longing,
To their land
Of rest,
Palm in hand
And praise in mouth.
"TAKE CARE OF HIM."
"Thou whom I love, for whom I died,
Lovest thou Me, My bride?"--
Low on my knees I love Thee, Lord,
Believed in and adored.
"That I love thee the proof is plain:
How dost thou love again?"--
In prayer, in toil, in earthly loss,
In a long-carried cross.
"Yea, thou dost love: yet one adept
Brings more for Me to accept."--
I mould my will to match with Thine,
My wishes I resign.
"Thou givest much: then give the whole
For solace of My soul."--
More would I give, if I could get:
But, Lord, what lack I yet?
"In Me thou lovest Me: I call
Thee to love Me in all."--
Brim full my heart, dear Lord, that so
My love may overflow.
"Love Me in sinners and in saints,
In each who needs or faints."--
Lord, I will love Thee as I can
In every brother man.
"All sore, all crippled, all who ache,
Tend all for My dear sake."--
All for Thy sake, Lord: I will see
In every sufferer, Thee.
"So I at last, upon My Throne
Of glory, Judge alone,
So I at last will say to thee:
Thou diddest it to Me."