A great white Christ, with loving arms outspread.
Singing afar a tender voice I heard,
Faintly the accents fell, “Flee as a bird.”
Then, as the spring-tides yearning to the moon,
Flood the dry hollows where we walked at noon,
E’en so the tidal-wave of feeling rose,
And memories wakened from their long repose,
And rushing back through many a dusty year
Left me again a reverent child at prayer.
Again the simple worshippers I saw