THIRTY years have rolled away,
Since that holy, happy day,
When amongst us first he came,
In his Master’s cause and name,
Hearts to gladden—souls to win
From the power of death and sin.
Thirty years their dews have shed
On his loved and honoured head,
Since, in all the glow of youth,
Champion of celestial truth,
He his hallowed task began,
Holiest work of fallen man.
Since that holy, happy day,
Many a soul hath passed away—
Many a soul that listened long,
To the pleadings, soft, yet strong,
From his kindled lips that fell,
For the Lord he loved so well.
Since that holy, happy day,
Who amongst us all can say—
Say how many hearts have felt
Stubborn pride within them melt,
As, with tenderness and love,
In the Saviour’s cause he strove?
Who shall say how many a mind,
Erewhile erring, weak, and blind,
Hath, beneath his guiding hand,
Sought and found “the better land,”—
Seen its darkness flee away
In the blaze of gospel-day?
This we know and this we feel:—
Something of his quiet zeal;
Something of his holy love,
(Likest that which blooms above)
Ever quick to soothe and bless
With its tones of tenderness;
Something too we all have known
Of that wisdom—all his own,
Wherewith in our darkest day
He can guide us on our way;
Something of his genial heart,
Wherein all the world hath part.
Spare him Lord! and spare him long!
In thy strength may he be strong.
Spare him still to lead us on
To the fight that must be won.
But as thou wilt one day, Lord!
Take him to his high reward,
Unto us and him be given,
One eternal home in heaven!