ONLY a few short weeks ago,
All icy bound and packed with snow,
This rocky cleft, through which to-day
Runs the glad brooklet on its way;
The merry brook which leaps and flows,
Flashing and singing as it goes,
To find and join and make a part
Of the great river’ s urgent heart.
Could it have dreamed so sweet a thing
In all those months of prisoning?
O happy brook! made glad, made free,
Shall you not find at last the sea?
Only a few short months ago,
A harder frost, a deeper snow,
Lay on my soul and held it tight
Away from hope, away from light.
Now God’ s sweet sun has entered in
And melted all the chains of sin,
And led by his dear hand to-day
My soul goes singing on its way,
To link its little thread of good
With the vast, over-brimming flood!
O happy soul! made glad, made free,
Shalt thou not find at last thy sea?