Thou knowest as the Here.
Swift, swift I’d bear aback to thee
What thou wouldst seek. Swift, swift,
Would I to bear aback to thee.
Dost deem the path ahid doth lead to naught?
Dost deem thy footfall leadest thee to nothingness?
Dost pin not ’pon His word o’ promising,
And art at sorry and afear to follow Him?
I’d put athin thy cup a sweet, a pledge o’ love’s-buy.
I’d send aback a glad-song o’ this land.