My body ages, form and hue;
But when the spring winds blow,
My spirit stirs and buds anew,
Younger than long ago.

Lord, make me more a child, and more,
Till Time his own end bring,
And out of every winter sore
I pass into thy spring.

A BOOK OF DREAMS.

PART I.

I lay and dreamed. The Master came,
In seamless garment drest;
I stood in bonds 'twixt love and shame,
Not ready to be blest.

He stretched his arms, and gently sought
To clasp me to his heart;
I shrank, for I, unthinking, thought
He knew me but in part.

I did not love him as I would!
Embraces were not meet!
I dared not ev'n stand where he stood—
I fell and kissed his feet.

Years, years have passed away since then;
Oft hast thou come to me;
The question scarce will rise again
Whether I care for thee.

In thee lies hid my unknown heart,
In thee my perfect mind;
In all my joys, my Lord, thou art
The deeper joy behind.