HE MAKETH ALL THINGS NEW.
BY MARY LOWE DICKINSON.
Old sorrows that sat at the heart’s sealed gate,
Like sentinels grim and sad,
While, out in the night damp, weary and late,
The King, with a gift divinely great,
Waited to make me glad.
Old fears, that hung like a changing cloud,
Over a sunless day;
Old burdens that kept the spirit bowed,
Old wrongs that rankled and clamored loud—
They have passed like a dream away.
In the world without and the world within,
He maketh the old things new;
The touch of sorrow, the stain of sin,
Have fled from the gate where the King came in,
From the chill night’s damp and dew.
…
Anew in the heavens the sweet stars shine,
On earth new blossoms spring;
The old life lost in the life divine,
“Thy will be mine, my will is thine,”
Is the song which the new hearts sing.