Gently thou beckonest from the giant hills
The new-born beauty in the emerald sky,
And wakening murmurs from the drowsy rills —
O gladsome dayspring!‘ reft of mortal sigh
To glorify all time — eternity —
With thy still fathomless Christ-majesty.
E'en as Thou gildest gladdened joy, dear God,
Give risen power to prayer; fan Thou the flame
Of right with might; and midst the rod,
And stern, dark shadows cast on Thy blest name,
Lift Thou a patient love above earth's ire,
Piercing the clouds with its triumphal spire.
While sacred song and loudest breath of praise
Echo amid the hymning spheres of light,—
With heaven's lyres and angels’ loving lays,—
Send to the loyal struggler for the right,
Joy — not of time, nor yet by nature sown,
But the celestial seed dropped from Love's throne.
Prolong the strain “Christ risen!” Sad sense, annoy
No more the peace of Soul's sweet solitude!
Deep loneness, tear-filled tones of distant joy,
Depart! Glad Easter glows with gratitude —
Love's verdure veils the leaflet's wondrous birth —
Rich rays, rare footprints on the dust of earth.
Not life, the vassal of the changeful hour,
Nor burdened bliss, but Truth and Love attest
The solemn splendor of immortal power,—
The ever Christ, and glorified behest,
Poured on the sense which deems no suffering vain
That wipes away the sting of death — sin, pain.