A solemn joy comes o’er me, and a sense
Of triumph, blent with nature’s gush of weeping,
As, kindling up the silent stone, I see
The glorious vision, caught by faith, of thee.
Slumberer! love calls thee, for the night is past;
Put on the immortal beauty of thy waking!
Captive! and hear’st thou not the trumpet’s blast,
The long, victorious note, thy bondage breaking?
Thou hear’st, thou answer’st, “God of earth and heaven!
Here am I, with the child whom thou hast given!”