E'en such is this bad world we see,
  Which self-condemned in owning Thee,
  Yet dares not open farewell of Thee take,
For very pride, and her high-boasted Reason's sake.

  What do we then? if far and wide
  Men kneel to CHRIST, the pure and meek,
  Yet rage with passion, swell with pride,
  Have we not still our faith to seek?
  Nay—but in steadfast humbleness
  Kneel on to Him, who loves to bless
  The prayer that waits for him; and trembling strive
To keep the lingering flame in thine own breast alive.

  Dark frowned the future e'en on him,
  The loving and beloved Seer,
  What time he saw, through shadows dim,
  The boundary of th' eternal year;
  He only of the sons of men
  Named to be heir of glory then.
  Else had it bruised too sore his tender heart
To see GOD'S ransomed world in wrath and flame depart

  Then look no more: or closer watch
  Thy course in Earth's bewildering ways,
  For every glimpse thine eye can catch
  Of what shall be in those dread days:
  So when th' Archangel's word is spoken,
  And Death's deep trance for ever broken,
  In mercy thou mayst feel the heavenly hand,
And in thy lot unharmed before thy Savour stand.

  Is it not strange, the darkest hour
  That ever dawned on sinful earth
  Should touch the heart with softer power
  For comfort than an angel's mirth?
That to the Cross the mourner's eye should turn
Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn?

  Sooner than where the Easter sun
  Shines glorious on yon open grave,