A splendor wakes upon the world once more—
Hark to those elfin violet bells!
For Spring has come, and cast her spells,
And every bank becomes a palace floor.
From meadows fair, illumed by rising sun,
A song of melody divine—
Of larks unnumbered—mounts with mine:
The daylight dawns, behold the night is done!
O white May-morning of this hour of grace!
O life, awakening from the sod!
To know ourselves, and know our God,
Know and reflect the glories of His face:
To know there is no sin, no selfishness
In earth or heaven, His wide domain;
There is no consciousness of pain,
No parting pangs, no tidings of distress.
This is the Spring of our new-born content,
When Christ awakes us from the womb
Of night and storm and noisome tomb,
To learn the lore of love's enfranchisement.
To this, the goal of every heart's desire,
The guerdon of the dawning day,
One gentle shepherd shows the way
And, ever leading heavenward, points us higher.
