"I then should reach a gentler hand
To cripples by the way,
Strike off the fetters, loose the band,
Turn night into the day.
"My tongue would be a tunèd reed,
My throat a silver horn,
My lips for fuller faith would plead
From even unto morn.
"I should not waste the miracle
Divine—the gift of speech—
With fancied images of hell—
This only would it teach:
"If God with lilies keeps a tryst,
Then He will also keep
Faith with that moment of the Christ
Who walks upon the deep—
"Christ walks upon the deep with him
Who dares the rising wave,
And though his failing faith grow dim,
Finds love is strong to save;
"Knows love is strong to save and lift
The flagging feet that fail,
Hearing across the cloudy drift:
'Courage, O comrade, hail!'
"Who sees the Presence, finds the Face,
And hears the mystic word;
Who moves to his appointed place,
Like any homing bird;
"Who never doubts the highest peak
Of his transcendent hour,
And boldly ventures forth to seek
Fulfilment of his power:
"For him God waits beyond the sun,
His Christ of many scars,
To give for that which he hath done
A heritage of stars."