Not mine the night that creeps beneath Life's sea,

Or lurks within Hope's ruins, sunk below

The desert, or the stagnant pool—oh, no!

But night that mounts the heavens, till it is free

Where stars, prefiguring all things that be

Obscure on earth, catch sight of God and glow,

And golden shadows large and larger grow,

Cast by Gift-bearers to Humanity.

Oh, once the cold of all the unsunn'd space

Was in my reptile life of soul, wing-bound;

But now, soul-free, what warmth from stars all round!

'Tis not by strength of mine, Lord, but thy grace,

My soul soars from the depths of sea, or ground,

Till, at star-heights, it meets Thee, face to face!