 | The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal |  |
To Helga.
Come down, and show the dwellers far belowWhat God is painting on each mountain place!
Show His fair colours, and His perfect grace,
Dowering each blossom born of sun and snow:
His tints, not thine! Thou art God's copyist,
O gifted Helga! His thy golden height,
Thy purple depth, thy rosy sunset light,
Thy blue snow-shadows, and thy weird white mist.
Reveal His works to many a distant land!
Paint for His praise, oh paint for love of Him!
He is thy Master, let Him hold thy hand,
So thy pure heart no cloud of self shall dim.
At His dear feet lay down thy laurel-store,
Which crimson proof of thy redemption bore.
| The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal | |