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W. Garrett Horder, comp. The Poets’ Bible: New Testament. 1895.

The Ascension

Arthur Middlemore Morgan

’TWAS on the Mount of Olives,

Nigh where the faithful Three

Had bid the Master welcome

So oft at Bethany,

’Twas there the Man we cherish,

The Mighty God we praise,

Among His chosen ended

The wondrous forty days.

There was not ought about Him

The coming change to say,

Only a cloud was o’er them

As on a common day;

He stood with Hands uplifted;

He blessed; that blessing o’er

After that earthly pattern

He will not bless them more.

For while He spake, the Saviour

Passed from this world of ill,

Far o’er the sacred village,

Far o’er the ancient hill;

Love unto Love returning,

Light unto kindred Light,

The cloud o’erhead He entered

And passed from mortal sight.

Then Angels came, foretelling

That He shall come once more

In clouds, that we may follow

Where He has gone before;

And then the twelve, descending,

Hastened with joy where lay

The towers of Sion City,

Distant a Sabbath day.

So God went up to Heaven;

But many an age has passed,

And still the Angel’s promise

We wait, in this, the last,

And oft our hearts expectant

Send up the cry of pain—

“Too long, too long He lingers;

When will He come again?”

Be hushed, life-weary spirits!

Not slack the work proceeds;

On earth He strives and quickens,

In Heaven His Death He pleads.

With Kings for nursing-fathers

Shall we, the servants, fail?

Not without Blood Divinest

Our Master passed the veil.