Throbbing from heaven through earth:
Life stirs again within the clod.
Renewed in beauteous birth.
The soul springs up, a flower of prayer,
Breathing his breath out on the air.
In Christ I touch the hand of God,
From His pure height reached down,
By blessed ways before untrod,
To lift us to our crown;—
Victory that only perfect is
Through loving sacrifice, like His.
Holding His hand, my steadied feet
May walk the air, the seas;
On life and death His smile falls sweet,—
Lights up all mysteries:
Stranger nor exile can I be
In new worlds where He leadeth me.
Not my Christ only: He is ours;
Humanity’s close bond;
Key to its vast unopened powers,
Dream of our dreams beyond.—
What yet we shall be, none can tell;
Now are we His, and all is well. —Lucy Larcom