THE WINTER SOLSTICE.
(ST. THOMAS' DAY.)
The long descent is o'er,
The stair of light is won;
Earth sunward climbs once more,—
We turn to Thee, our Sun!
From downward steeps of doubt
Saints once in anguish trod,
Darkness within, without,
To Thee, our Lord, our God!
Earth's darkest day is o'er;
Love conquers on Thy Cross,
And there and evermore
Wins all by willing loss;
No honours owns, or craves,
Save scars of saving pain;
Her crown the lives she saves,
To love and save again.
The victory is won;
Light has an open field,
And slowly, one by one,
The gates of hell shall yield.
Light in Thy light we see,
Self's shadow falls behind;
Turning from all to Thee,
All, all, with Thee we find.
Slow, slow, the upward way
Where step by step we press;
Yet longer grows each day,
And every night is less;
Till Eve embraces Morn,
Glowing from shore to shore,
And Day of Night is born,
And night shall be no more.
Slow, slow, the upward way,
Yet shall the heights be won;
For summer dawns the day
Earth turns towards the Sun.
