Thy face, itself, a lily filled with light:—
Thyself the youngest of God's angels and most fair,
Bearing His latest breath and blessing on thine hair,
Thou comest fresh from looking on thy Lord;
And all is well, and all is filled for thee
With eloquent, mute wonder of His Word.
Oh, lean a little forth thy lips to me,
For I am fain of peace amid this earthly strife,
And I would drink, a spent soul, thirstily,
From out thy never-failing cup of life.