Frederic Manning
Love suffereth all things,And we,Out of the travail and pain of our striving,Bring unto Thee the perfect prayer:For the lips of no man utter love,Suffering even for love’s sake.For us no splendid apparel of pageantry—Burnished breast-plates, scarlet banners, and trumpetsSounding exultantly.But the mean things of the earth Thou hast chosen,Decked them with suffering;Made them beautiful with the passion for rightness,Strong with the pride of love.Yea, though our praise of Thee slayeth us,Yet love shall exalt us beside Thee triumphant,Dying that these live;And the earth again be beautiful with orchards,Yellow with wheatfields;And the lips of others praise Thee, though our lipsBe stopped with earth, and songless.Yet we shall have brought Thee their praisesBrought unto Thee the perfect prayer:For the lips of no man utter love,Suffering even for love’s sake.O God of sorrows,Whose feet come softly through the dews,Stoop Thou unto us,For we die so Thou livest,Our hearts the cups of Thy vintage:And the lips of no man utter love,Suffering even for love’s sake.
Love suffereth all things,And we,Out of the travail and pain of our striving,Bring unto Thee the perfect prayer:For the lips of no man utter love,Suffering even for love’s sake.For us no splendid apparel of pageantry—Burnished breast-plates, scarlet banners, and trumpetsSounding exultantly.But the mean things of the earth Thou hast chosen,Decked them with suffering;Made them beautiful with the passion for rightness,Strong with the pride of love.Yea, though our praise of Thee slayeth us,Yet love shall exalt us beside Thee triumphant,Dying that these live;And the earth again be beautiful with orchards,Yellow with wheatfields;And the lips of others praise Thee, though our lipsBe stopped with earth, and songless.Yet we shall have brought Thee their praisesBrought unto Thee the perfect prayer:For the lips of no man utter love,Suffering even for love’s sake.O God of sorrows,Whose feet come softly through the dews,Stoop Thou unto us,For we die so Thou livest,Our hearts the cups of Thy vintage:And the lips of no man utter love,Suffering even for love’s sake.
Love suffereth all things,And we,Out of the travail and pain of our striving,Bring unto Thee the perfect prayer:For the lips of no man utter love,Suffering even for love’s sake.
Love suffereth all things,
And we,
Out of the travail and pain of our striving,
Bring unto Thee the perfect prayer:
For the lips of no man utter love,
Suffering even for love’s sake.
For us no splendid apparel of pageantry—Burnished breast-plates, scarlet banners, and trumpetsSounding exultantly.But the mean things of the earth Thou hast chosen,Decked them with suffering;Made them beautiful with the passion for rightness,Strong with the pride of love.
For us no splendid apparel of pageantry—
Burnished breast-plates, scarlet banners, and trumpets
Sounding exultantly.
But the mean things of the earth Thou hast chosen,
Decked them with suffering;
Made them beautiful with the passion for rightness,
Strong with the pride of love.
Yea, though our praise of Thee slayeth us,Yet love shall exalt us beside Thee triumphant,Dying that these live;And the earth again be beautiful with orchards,Yellow with wheatfields;And the lips of others praise Thee, though our lipsBe stopped with earth, and songless.Yet we shall have brought Thee their praisesBrought unto Thee the perfect prayer:For the lips of no man utter love,Suffering even for love’s sake.
Yea, though our praise of Thee slayeth us,
Yet love shall exalt us beside Thee triumphant,
Dying that these live;
And the earth again be beautiful with orchards,
Yellow with wheatfields;
And the lips of others praise Thee, though our lips
Be stopped with earth, and songless.
Yet we shall have brought Thee their praises
Brought unto Thee the perfect prayer:
For the lips of no man utter love,
Suffering even for love’s sake.
O God of sorrows,Whose feet come softly through the dews,Stoop Thou unto us,For we die so Thou livest,Our hearts the cups of Thy vintage:And the lips of no man utter love,Suffering even for love’s sake.
O God of sorrows,
Whose feet come softly through the dews,
Stoop Thou unto us,
For we die so Thou livest,
Our hearts the cups of Thy vintage:
And the lips of no man utter love,
Suffering even for love’s sake.
Hush ye! Hush ye! My babe is sleeping.Hush, ye winds, that are full of sorrow!Hush, ye rains, from your weary weeping!Give him slumber until to-morrow.Hush ye, yet! In the years hereafter,Surely sorrow is all his reaping;Tears shall be in the place of laughter,Give him peace for a while in sleeping.Hush ye, hush! he is weak and ailing:Send his mother his share of weeping.Hush ye, winds, from your endless wailing;Hush ye, hush ye, my babe is sleeping!
Hush ye! Hush ye! My babe is sleeping.Hush, ye winds, that are full of sorrow!Hush, ye rains, from your weary weeping!Give him slumber until to-morrow.Hush ye, yet! In the years hereafter,Surely sorrow is all his reaping;Tears shall be in the place of laughter,Give him peace for a while in sleeping.Hush ye, hush! he is weak and ailing:Send his mother his share of weeping.Hush ye, winds, from your endless wailing;Hush ye, hush ye, my babe is sleeping!
Hush ye! Hush ye! My babe is sleeping.Hush, ye winds, that are full of sorrow!Hush, ye rains, from your weary weeping!Give him slumber until to-morrow.
Hush ye! Hush ye! My babe is sleeping.
Hush, ye winds, that are full of sorrow!
Hush, ye rains, from your weary weeping!
Give him slumber until to-morrow.
Hush ye, yet! In the years hereafter,Surely sorrow is all his reaping;Tears shall be in the place of laughter,Give him peace for a while in sleeping.
Hush ye, yet! In the years hereafter,
Surely sorrow is all his reaping;
Tears shall be in the place of laughter,
Give him peace for a while in sleeping.
Hush ye, hush! he is weak and ailing:Send his mother his share of weeping.Hush ye, winds, from your endless wailing;Hush ye, hush ye, my babe is sleeping!
Hush ye, hush! he is weak and ailing:
Send his mother his share of weeping.
Hush ye, winds, from your endless wailing;
Hush ye, hush ye, my babe is sleeping!