LIFT up the Cross, lift up the Cross!
     Let it surmount each loftiest spire,
And beam, the beacon of the world,
     To warn it, from eternal fire.
Lift up the Cross, lift up the Cross!
     Let every eye the token see,
And look, through it, to Him, whose blood
     Streamed, for them, from the atoning Tree.

Lift up the Cross! Through all the storms
     Of more than eighteen hundred years,
Its changeless beauty, clear and calm,
     The radiant signature uprears;
Unharmed it stands, undimmed it shines,
     And sheds its glory, near and far;
God's pillar-light, to guide His Church,
     Salvation's "bright and morning star."

Lift up the Cross! Rome shall not have
     Our birthright, in that blessed sign:
We still will bear it, on the brow,
     We still will rear it, on the shrine.
So that be ours, and we be His,
     All other things, we count "but loss;"
Our single hope, the Crucified,
     And all our glory, in the Cross.

RIVERSIDE, TUESDAY IN EASTER WEEK, 1843.

Project Canterbury