Oh ye, beneath life's crushing load, Whose forms are bending low, Who toil along the climbing way, With painful steps and slow, Look up! for glad and golden hours Come swiftly on the wing: Oh rest beside the weary road, And hear the angels sing! For lo, the days are hastening on, By prophet-bards foretold, When with the ever-circling years Comes round the age of gold! When peace shall over all the earth Its final splendors fling, And the whole world send back the song Which now the angels sing! --_Sears._ Hail to the Lord's Anointed, Great David's greater Son; Hail, in the time appointed, His reign on earth begun! He comes to break oppression, To set the captive free, To take away transgression, And rule in equity. He comes with succor speedy, To those who suffer wrong; To help the poor and needy, And bid the weak be strong; To give them songs for sighing, Their darkness turn to light, Whose souls, condemned and dying, Were precious in His sight. He shall descend like showers Upon the fruitful earth; And love and joy, like flowers, Spring in His path to birth; Before Him, on the mountains, Shall peace, the herald, go; And righteousness, in fountains, From hill to valley flow. Arabia's desert-ranger To Him shall bow the knee, The Ethiopian stranger His glory come to see; With offerings of devotion, Ships from the Isles shall meet, To pour the wealth of ocean In tribute at His feet. Kings shall fall down before Him, And gold and incense bring, All nations shall adore Him, His praise all people sing: For He shall have dominion O'er river, sea, and shore, Far as the eagle's pinion Or dove's light wing can soar. To Him shall prayer unceasing, And daily vows ascend; His kingdom, still increasing, A kingdom without end: The tide of time shall never His covenant remove; His name shall stand forever; That name to us is Love. --_Montgomery._ I think, when I read that sweet story of old, When Jesus was here among men, How He called little children as lambs to his fold, I should like to have been with them then. I wish that his hands had been placed on my head, That his arms had been thrown around me, And that I might have seen his kind look, when He said, "Let the little ones come unto me." Yet still to his footstool in prayer I may go, And ask for a share in his love; And if I thus earnestly seek him below, I shall see Him and hear Him above-- In that beautiful place He has gone to prepare, For all who are washed and forgiv'n; And many dear children are gathering there, "For of such is the kingdom of heav'n." I long for the joys of that glorious time, The sweetest, and brightest, and best, When the dear little children of every clime, Shall crowd to his arms and be blest.