"AS WORKERS TOGETHER WITH HIM." HIGH on His everlasting throne, The King of Saints His work surveys; His eye at once the world looks through, A vast uncultivated field; Mountains and vales in ghastly show, A barren, uncouth prospect yield: Clear'd of the thorns by civil care, A few less hideous wastes are seen; Yet still they all continue bare And not one spot of earth is green. See where the servants of their God, For Jesus day and night employ'd The love of Christ their hearts constrains, Alarm'd at their successful toil, They labour to tear up and spoil In every wilderness they sow Yet still the servants of their Lord To dig the ground they thus bestow They gather out the stones, and sow They water it with tears and prayers, Then long for the returning word; Happy, if all their pains and cares Can bring forth fruit to please their Lord. Jesus their work delighted see, O multiply thy sowers' seed, And fruit we every hour shall bear ; We all in perfect love renew'd, As pillars, and go out no more. DIES IRE." THE last loud trumpet's wondrous sound Shall through the rending tombs rebound, And wake the nations under ground. Nature and Death shall, with surprise, And view the Judge with conscious eyes. Then shall, with universal dread, The Judge ascends His awful throne; O then! what interest shall I make, Thou mighty, formidable King, Forget not what my ransom cost, Thou, who for me didst feel such pain, Whose precious blood the cross did stain, Let not those agonies be vain! Thou whom avenging powers obey, Surrounded with amazing fears, Whose weight my soul with anguish bears, I sigh, I weep,-accept my tears: Thou who wert moved with Mary's grief, And, by absolving of the thief, Hast given me hope, now give relief. Reject not my unworthy prayer; Give my exalted soul a place Among Thy chosen right-hand race, C grace. |