A HYMN TO GOD
In Time of Stress
| Lift, O dark and glorious Wonder, Once again thy gleaming sword, Cleave this killing doubt asunder With one sheer and sacred word! For my heart is weak and broken, And the struggle runs too high, And there is no burning token In the new immortal sky. Oh, not curb or courage only Does my hour demand of me, It is thought supreme and lonely And responsible and free! And I quail before the danger As a bark before the blast, When the beacon star's a stranger In the mountains piling fast, And there is no light but reason And the compass of the ship. God, a word of thine in season! God, a motion of thy lip! |
COMING SPRING
| Ice is marching down the river, Gaily out to sea! Sunbeams o'er the snow-hills quiver, Setting torrents free! Yellow are the water-willows, Yellow clouds are they, Rising where the laden billows Swell along their way! Arrows of the sun are flying! Winter flees the light, And his chilly horn is sighing All the moisty night! Lovers of the balmy weather, Lovers of the sun! Drifts and duty melt together— Get your labors done! Ice is marching down the river, Gaily out to sea! Sing the healthy-hearted ever, Spring is liberty! |