I saw my Lord the first time beside the sun-flecked sea
With crowds who thronged about him to share his charity.
The Galilean beaches were murmurous with the praise
Of "God with us," Immanuel, touching our human ways.
I saw him in the market and in the jostling street.
And where the grass of Olivet sprang soft beneath his feet.
I saw the sleepers waking from tortured, twisted dreams.
The fevered heads grow calm and cool, laved by the living streams
The sacred pages led me to follow when he trod
The stark road of the wilderness, the vestibule of God;
I saw him feed the hungry, and bid the tempest cease,
And climb the hill, the weary hill, to Calvary and peace.
And now, each living moment, I find my Lord anew,
The white Christ ever present, the Saviour ever true—
The wind of God, dispelling the wreathing mist of pain,
A bright star, when I wander, to lead me home again,
A still voice overswelling the senses' siren call.
Peace in the shock of battle, freedom in place of thrall.
Christ in the thought assuages the terror of the tomb
And fills with Love's irradiance the mourner's empty room.
The newer pages show me the Christ of every day,
A living, breathing presence along earth's winding way—
In home or church or workshop, in street or strident mart,
A light within the darkness, a hymn within the heart.
