Poetry

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The trump of God when it shall sound,
To the faithful a homeward call,
There at the gate of rest beyond,
What will you wish you have done?

Love unfeigned abroad to have spread,
To weary hearts unspoken hope,
Meal with the hungry to have shared,
What will you wish you have done?

Hearts set on the stars of heaven,
How soon forget the sea sands here!
Walking on them much grace we find,
To soar and reach the stars above.

Fellowship with the brethren,
Into that of His Son lifts us,
Where our race is thus fulfilled,
And our home thus perfected.

All grace given for here to spend,
And appear before Him with none,
For up there of no use it is;
Heavenly grace for us is there.

Here time with us His will to do,
Before our flesh will still become;
When today be gone forever,
Where wish and deed will ever part.

Ought we to sow in hearts of flesh,
Now grace to do with us abound,
For of the spirit we shall reap,
When the homeward call we answer.

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