When To The Cross I Turn My

Night Is The Time To Weep,to Wet With Unseen Tearsthose Graves Of Memory Where Sleepthe Joys Of Other Years.

Joys Too Exquisite To Last, And Yet More Exquisite When Past.

Eagle Of Flowers! I See Thee Stand, And On The Sun's Noon-glory Gaze; With Eye Like His, Thy Lids Expand, And Fringe Their Disk With Golden Rays: Though Fix'd On Earth, In Darkness Rooted There, Light Is Thy Element, Thy Dwelling Air, Thy Prospect Heaven.

Fairest And Best Adorned Is She Whose Clothing Is Humility.

Baptize The Nations! Far And Nigh,the Triumphs Of The Cross Recordthe Name Of Jesus Glorify,till Every People Call Him Lord.