CROSSING THE TIDE.
BY MISS PHŒBE CAREY.
Fainter, fainter, all the whileOn us beams her patient smile;Brighter as each day returns,In her cheek the crimson burns;And her tearful, fond caressHath more loving tenderness,—Saviour, Saviour, unto herDraw thou near, and minister!And when on the crumbling sandOf life's shore her feet shall stand;When the death-stream's moaning surgeSings for her its solemn dirge,And our earthly love would shrink,Trembling, backward from the brink.Saviour, Saviour, take her hand,That her feet may safely stand!Firmly hold it in thine own,Gently, gently lead her down;And when o'er the solemn seaSafely she shall walk with thee,Nearing to that other shore.Whence a voice hath called her o'er.Saviour, Saviour, from the tide,Aid her up the heavenly side!Lead her on that burning way,Brighter than the path of day,Where a thousand saints have trodTo the city of our God;Where a thousand martyrs cameShining on a path of flame;Saviour, till her wanderings ceaseOn the eternal hills of peace.
Fainter, fainter, all the whileOn us beams her patient smile;Brighter as each day returns,In her cheek the crimson burns;And her tearful, fond caressHath more loving tenderness,—Saviour, Saviour, unto herDraw thou near, and minister!And when on the crumbling sandOf life's shore her feet shall stand;When the death-stream's moaning surgeSings for her its solemn dirge,And our earthly love would shrink,Trembling, backward from the brink.Saviour, Saviour, take her hand,That her feet may safely stand!Firmly hold it in thine own,Gently, gently lead her down;And when o'er the solemn seaSafely she shall walk with thee,Nearing to that other shore.Whence a voice hath called her o'er.Saviour, Saviour, from the tide,Aid her up the heavenly side!Lead her on that burning way,Brighter than the path of day,Where a thousand saints have trodTo the city of our God;Where a thousand martyrs cameShining on a path of flame;Saviour, till her wanderings ceaseOn the eternal hills of peace.
Fainter, fainter, all the whileOn us beams her patient smile;Brighter as each day returns,In her cheek the crimson burns;And her tearful, fond caressHath more loving tenderness,—Saviour, Saviour, unto herDraw thou near, and minister!
Fainter, fainter, all the while
On us beams her patient smile;
Brighter as each day returns,
In her cheek the crimson burns;
And her tearful, fond caress
Hath more loving tenderness,—
Saviour, Saviour, unto her
Draw thou near, and minister!
And when on the crumbling sandOf life's shore her feet shall stand;When the death-stream's moaning surgeSings for her its solemn dirge,And our earthly love would shrink,Trembling, backward from the brink.Saviour, Saviour, take her hand,That her feet may safely stand!
And when on the crumbling sand
Of life's shore her feet shall stand;
When the death-stream's moaning surge
Sings for her its solemn dirge,
And our earthly love would shrink,
Trembling, backward from the brink.
Saviour, Saviour, take her hand,
That her feet may safely stand!
Firmly hold it in thine own,Gently, gently lead her down;And when o'er the solemn seaSafely she shall walk with thee,Nearing to that other shore.Whence a voice hath called her o'er.Saviour, Saviour, from the tide,Aid her up the heavenly side!
Firmly hold it in thine own,
Gently, gently lead her down;
And when o'er the solemn sea
Safely she shall walk with thee,
Nearing to that other shore.
Whence a voice hath called her o'er.
Saviour, Saviour, from the tide,
Aid her up the heavenly side!
Lead her on that burning way,Brighter than the path of day,Where a thousand saints have trodTo the city of our God;Where a thousand martyrs cameShining on a path of flame;Saviour, till her wanderings ceaseOn the eternal hills of peace.
Lead her on that burning way,
Brighter than the path of day,
Where a thousand saints have trod
To the city of our God;
Where a thousand martyrs came
Shining on a path of flame;
Saviour, till her wanderings cease
On the eternal hills of peace.
THE END.