Rev. xix. 7.
It ends--the vigil
of high festival,
The
solemn night of song;
For lo! the
crimson day has lit the hills,
The
day desired so long.
From peak to peak
there spreads the jasper glow,
The
morning star grows dim;
How passing strange
the joy that now we know--
So
soon to look on Him!
Oh, deeper than our
longing and our love,
More
wondrous than our bliss,
His love
that waited while the ages rolled
To
welcome us as His!
And now, the
watching and the waiting o'er,
The
sin and sadness passed,
Behold, within the
palaces of gold,
The
harps are strung at last!
"The Bridegroom
from His chamber goeth forth,
Resplendent
as the sun;
O Bride, arise, and
put thy jewels on,
The
desert journey done."
Thus do the morning
stars together sing,
Our
shout of joy replies;
For lo! He cometh
as the solemn dawn
Awakes
the silent skies.
The joy of God's
high city peals afar,
Through
portals open wide;
All Heaven awaits
the shining marriage train,
The
Bridegroom and the Bride.
C. P. C.
