And straightway lives above her pain.
‘We are not losers thus; we share
The perfect gladness of the Son,
Not conquered—for, behold, we reign;
Conquered and Conqueror are one.
‘Thy wonderful grand will, my God!
Triumphantly I make it mine;
And faith shall breathe her glad “Amen”
To every dear command of Thine.
‘Beneath the splendour of Thy choice,