The Minister

He held the lamp of truth that day

So low that none could miss the way;

And yet so high, to bring in sight

That picture fair-the world’s great Light-

That gazing up, the lamp between,

The hand that held it scarce was seen.

He held the pitcher, stooping low

To lips of little ones below;

Then raised it to the weary saint,

And bade him drink when sick and faint;

They drank-the pitcher thus between,

The hand that held it scarce was seen.

He blew the trumpet soft and clear,

That trembling sinners need not fear;

And then, with louder note and bold

To raze the walls of Satan’s hold.

The trumpet coming thus between,

The hand that held it scarce was seen.

But when the Captain says, “Well done,

Thou good and faithful servant-come!

Lay down the pitcher and the lamp;

Lay down the trumpet-leave the camp,”

These weary hands will then be seen

Clasped in those pierced ones-naught between.