Master, from heav'n's open hymnal page,
Pours Love's deep canticle — thy full-toned life;
Above the desolate threnody
And clam'ring call of strident centuries,
This obligato of divinest power
Is heard of men. The undulating fields
Where thou hast looked and prayed would reapers come,
No husbandman save thee, thy Father knew,
could shield from rust and hail. And naught shall fail;
The burdened burnished corn, the barley brave,
The modest millet, and the waiting wheat
Are hosts of human hearts beholding Christ.
Purer to-day than light of Syrian sun,
Pearls thou hast strewn of old in Palestine
Are gathered up by one made glad for thee
To light dim eyes in thine own mission-way.
Whom thou hast comforted in Bethany,
And stayed with wisdom high in Olivet,
Are now a sick throng healed.
Loved Son of God!
Thy hallowed feet still press with peace the surge;
Thy simple speech bids palsied hope to walk,
Thy deeds transcend the constellations' height
And breadth and depth. Lo, softly here to-day,
In robes of light, doth sandal-footed Christ
Point the troubled spinner to Life's faultless lily-fields,
Dignify the lowly mustard unto giant shade,
And mark the wake of whirring wing, the calm of plumaged
breast.
