Monday, March 21, 2016
Commemoration
of Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1556
Worship: 12 Noon
Reading: John 12:1-11
His voice as the sound of
the dulcimer sweet,
Is heard through the
shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon bow
at his feet,
The air is perfumed with
his breath.
His lips as the fountain
of righteousness flow,
That waters the garden of
grace;
From which their salvation
the Gentiles shall know,
And bask in the smiles of
his face.
O! thou in whose presence
my soul takes delight,
On whom in affliction I
call;
My comfort by day, and my
song in the night,
My hope, my salvation, my
all -
Where dost thou at
noontide resort with thy sheep,
To feed on the pastures of
love?
Say why in the valley of
death should I weep,
Or alone in th' wilderness
rove?
The roses of Sharon, the
lilies that grow
In the vales, on the banks
of the streams,
On his cheeks the beauty
of excellence blow,
And his eyes are as
quivers of beams.
His voice as the sound of
the dulcimer sweet,
Is heard through the shadows of death;
The cedars of Lebanon bow
at his feet,
The air is perfumed with
his breath.
Joseph Swain (1761-1796)
- Visit www.gratefulness.org
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