Bush, Olivia Ward
|The Burning Logs -- of Memory|
In the hush of the Sabbath evening,
The people were wending their way,
To worship in God's own temple,
Where so often, they met to pray.
They had said like the Psalmist David,
"Let us go to the House of the Lord,
We're athirst for the living water,
And we long to feed on His word."
So they entered His sacred dwelling,
And they sat in silence there,
While the man of God bowed humbly,
And offered a fervent prayer
That the peace of the Holy Spirit
Might enter each waiting soul,
That some weary wounded seeker,
Might believe and be made whole.
And the people's hearts grew tender,
As they heard the earnest prayer,
And their souls rejoiced within them,
For the Comforter was there;
Then followed the Holy Communion,
That Ordinance so divine,
And they ate of the bread, His body,
And they drank of His blood, the wine.
'Twas an hour of earnest devotion,
'Mid the hush and the holy calm,
Bringing its rest to the weary,
To the wounded, its healing balm.
Then a burst of heavenly music,
Broke over the stillness again,
And the sweet familiar "Palm Branches,"
Rang out in triumphant strain.
Louder and louder swelling,
Till it echoed with richness untold,
Till it seemed that the Master was coming,
As he did in the days of old
When He rode as a king in triumph,
Through the streets of Jerusalem,
And they cast their garments before Him,
And proclaimed Him the "Ruler of Men."
And to-night the people adoring,
Gave honor to Him above,
And they brought Him, each one an offering,
The beautiful palms of love.
While the rich full strains of music,
So sweetly their spirits controlled,
Till it seemed that the Hosts of Heaven,
Were striking their Harps of gold.
And bowing in praise before Him,
Crying, "Holy, thrice Holy our Lord,
As they stood on the banks of the River,
Which flows by the bright Throne of God,
And the people waited enraptured,
For the last faint echo to cease,
Then arose and passed from His temple,
And went on their way in peace.
They were glad like the Psalmist David,
That they went to the House of the Lord,
They had drank from the Living Waters,
They had fed on His precious Word,
In their souls the strain of Palm Branches,
Seemed to linger and gently abide,
They remembered with joy its sweetness,
In the hush of that even-tide.