God Always Fills In All

Ye Heavens, How Sang They In Your Courts, How Sang The Angelic Choir That Day, When From His Tomb The Imprisoned God, Like The Strong Sunrise, Broke Away?

The World Is Growing Old;who Would Not Be At Rest And Freewhere Love Is Never Cold?

God Always Fills In All Hearts All The Room Which Is Left Him There.

Now Are The Days, Of Humblest Prayer, When Consciences To God Lie Bare, And Mercy Most Delights To Spare. Oh Hearken When We Cry. Now Is The Season, Wisely Long, Of Sadder Thought And Graver Song, When Ailing Souls Grow Well And Strong. Oh Hearken When We Cry. The Feast Of Penance! Oh So Bright, With True Conversion's Heavenly Light, Like Sunrise After Stormy Night! Oh Hearken When We Cry. Oh Happy Time Of Blessed Tears, Of Surer Hopes, Of Chast'ning Fears, Undoing All Our Evil Years. Oh Hearken When We Cry. Chastise Us With Thy Fear; Yet, Father! In The Multitude Of Thy Compassions, Hear!

The Buried Talent Is The Sunken Rock On Which Most Lives Strike And Founder.