Tuesday in Easter Week

From the guiding star that led
Sages to the manger bed;
From the God incarnate press'd
To the mother-maiden's breast;
From the labours humbly plied
Day by day at Joseph's side;
From the sacred lessons learn'd
When the lamp of evening burn'd, —
Steals the voice persuasively
" Lovest thou, yea lovest Me? "

From the Holy Dove who came
Through the azure heavens like flame;
From the fast, the foughten strife;
From the victory of life;
From the happy homes that smiled,
Parent heal'd and rescued child;
From the health that play'd again
On the cheek long worn with pain, —
Still there sounds unweariedly
" Lovest thou, yea lovest Me? "

From the mingled glow and gloom
Of the Paschal upper room;
From the deepening shades that fell
Over Kedron's awful dell;
From the blood-stain'd pathway trod
By the fainting Son of God;
From the woes to us unknown,
Bitter cross, and sealed stone, —
Ever comes persistently
" Lovest thou, yea lovest Me? "

From the dawn of Easter light
Breaking on the world's long night;
From the glories lingering yet
On the brow of Olivet;
From the rapturous angel-songs;
From the Pentecostal tongues;
From the voice divinely sweet
At the golden mercy-seat, —
Pleads, and pleads victoriously,
" Lovest thou, yea lovest Me? "

" Lord, Thou knowest through and through
All I am and say and do,
All the daily wants that press,
All my hourly waywardness,
All my conflicts, crosses, cares,
Feeble praises, struggling prayers; —
Yet Thou knowest, Lord, that I
Fain for Thee would live, would die;
Surely Thou, who knowest me,
Knowest, Master, I love Thee. "
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