Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold :: :: University of Virginia Library

Out of the nor'land, under the foreland it blew,
Wind of a jubilant tone
Touching the heart that was stone,
Happily telling hope not for selling—and grew;
Out of the south-land, warm from the drouth-land, arose
Waft of a miracle fair,
Chanted abroad in the air
Rich with its capture, breathing the rapture—repose;
Far from the east land, mystery's feast-land, the tale
Murmured on musical strings
Measures of pageants and kings,
Speaking in wonder, waxing in thunder a gale;
Last on the west-land, bloom of the best land, He trod
Victor in triumph and tears
Born of the yearning of years,
Great beyond seeming the one redeeming White God.

Pen cannot write it, fame not indite it—the truth,
How He in majesty stept
Stilling the sadness that wept,
Shedding around Him light that enwound Him with youth;
Wrapt in a splendour dread but as tender as sleep,
Keeping all cares as His own
Treasures though mean and unknown,
Mild as maternity, yet as eternity deep;
Birds to the Master, waited for, faster still flew
As to the kisses of morn,
Fearing no buffet of scorn—
Outcasts of city bathed in the pity that drew;
All that was weakness all that was meekness and shod

Humbly and shamefully here
Won a safe refuge and sphere
More than a dwelling, in the compelling White God.
Children with laughter met Him and after Him ran,
Feeling a Brother and Child
Also in Him when He smil'd,
Finding their places in His embraces and plan;
Grandeur before Him stooped to adore Him who led
Taking its crown from Him back,
Plenty without Him seemed lack—
Dross from the metal, stain from the petal, both fled;
Evil and sadness, mischief and madness, reproached
Shrunk in the ruin they plied,
Envy was famished and died,
Dearth that had dimly fallen and grimly encroached;
Shades of affliction, war's malediction and rod
Melted or turned to a staff,
Gold from the sickliest chaff
Sprang at the healing of the revealing White God.