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 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
315
IMMORTAL.
Into the heaven of Thy heart, O God,
I lift up my life, like a flower;
Thy light is deep, and Thy love is broad,
And I am not the child of an hour.
I lift up my life, like a flower;
Thy light is deep, and Thy love is broad,
And I am not the child of an hour.
As a little blossom is fed from the whole
Vast depth of unfathomed air,
Through every fibre of thought my soul
Reaches forth, in Thyself to share.
Vast depth of unfathomed air,
Through every fibre of thought my soul
Reaches forth, in Thyself to share.
I dare to say unto Thee, my God,
Who hast made me to climb so high,
That I shall not crumble away with the clod
I am Thine, and I cannot die!
Who hast made me to climb so high,
That I shall not crumble away with the clod
I am Thine, and I cannot die!
The throb of Thy infinite life I feel
In every beat of my heart;
Upon me hast Thou set eternity's seal;
Forever alive, as Thou art.
In every beat of my heart;
Upon me hast Thou set eternity's seal;
Forever alive, as Thou art.
I know not Thy mystery, O my God,
Nor yet what my own life means,
That feels after Thee, through the mould and the sod,
And the darkness that intervenes.
Nor yet what my own life means,
That feels after Thee, through the mould and the sod,
And the darkness that intervenes.
But I know that I live, since I hate the wrong,
The glory of truth can see;
Can cling to the right with a purpose strong,
Can love and can will with Thee.
The glory of truth can see;
Can cling to the right with a purpose strong,
Can love and can will with Thee.
And I feel Thee through other lives, my God,
That into Thyself have grown,
And are filled with the sweetness of Thine abode,
With the light that is all Thine own.
That into Thyself have grown,
And are filled with the sweetness of Thine abode,
With the light that is all Thine own.
Because I have known the human heart
And its heavenly tenderness,
I am sure that Thou with Thy children art:
They bless me as Thou dost bless.
And its heavenly tenderness,
I am sure that Thou with Thy children art:
They bless me as Thou dost bless.
Shall I doubt Thy breath which I breathe, my God?
Shall I reason myself into dust?
Thy Word flows fresh through the earth abroad;
My soul unto Thee I trust!
Shall I reason myself into dust?
Thy Word flows fresh through the earth abroad;
My soul unto Thee I trust!
Thou hast entered into humanity,
And hast made it, like Thee, divine;
And the grave and corruption it shall not see,
This Holy One that is Thine!
And hast made it, like Thee, divine;
And the grave and corruption it shall not see,
This Holy One that is Thine!
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |