He Stood in the Midst

He stood in the midst of His chos­en

At East­er He stood at e’en;

The wounds that were made by the ir­on

In the hands and the feet were seen.

And he showed where the bar­bar­ous spear­head

Transfixing His heart

had been.

He stood as the sun ’mid the pla­nets

Enriching their orbs with light;

He stood as a cap­tain in­spir­ing

His sol­diers to brave the fight;

And He stood as a rose in a gar­den

Its or­na­ment and de­light.

He stood to re­vive the droop­ing

He stood to sus­tain the frail;

He stood to in­fuse fresh cour­age

In those that be­gin to fail;

As a guide and a help to the pil­grims

Who tra­verse this tear­ful vale.

In the midst of the Church He stand­eth

A fount­ain whence vir­tue flows;

He light­ens

He leads

He pas­tures

His sheep by their name He knows;

And wher­ev­er His flock He lead­eth

Before them the Pas­tor goes.

In the midst of the fierc­est bat­tle

He stand­eth with suc­cor near;

In the black­est and wild­est tem­pest

A bea­con the tossed to cheer.

I walk through the val­ley of sha­dows;

I see Him

and I have no fear.