What called from heaven the flame divine,
Which streams in glory far above,
And bid it o'er earth's bosom shine,
And bless us with its brightness?
Love!
Who bid the glorious sun arrest
His course, and o'er heaven's concave move
In tears,—the saddest, loneliest,
Of the celestial orbs?
'Twas love!
Who raised the human race so high,
E'en to the starry seats above,
That, for our mortal progeny,
A man became a God?
'Twas love!
Who humbled from the seats of light
Their Lord, all human woes to prove,
Led the great Source of day to night,
And made of God a man?
'Twas love!
Yes! love has wrought, and love alone,
The victories all,—beneath, above:
And heaven and earth shall shout as one,
The all-triumphant song
Of love.
The song through all heaven's arches ran,
And told the wondrous tales aloud,
The trembling fire that looked so wan,
The weeping sun behind the cloud,
A God, a God become a man!
A mortal man become a God.
—Violante Do Ceo.
