Immortal Love, forever full,
Forever flowing free,
Forever shared, forever whole,
A never-ebbing sea!
No fable old, nor mythic lore,
Nor dream of bards and seers,
No dead fact stranded on the shore
Of the oblivious years;--
But warm, sweet, tender, even yet
A present help is he;
And faith has still its Olivet,
And love its Galilee.
The healing of his seamless dress
Is by our beds of pain;
We touch him in life's throng and press,
And we are whole again.
Through him the first fond prayers are said
Our lips of childhood frame,
The last low whispers of our dead
Are burdened with his name.
O Lord and Master of us all!
Whate'er our name or sign,
We own thy sway, we hear thy call,
We test our lives by thine.
We faintly hear, we dimly see,
In differing phrase we pray;
But, dim or clear, we own in thee
The Light, the Truth, the Way!
To do thy will is more than praise,
As words are less than deeds,
And simple trust can find thy ways
We miss with chart of creeds.
No pride of self thy service hath,
No place for me and mine;
Our human strength is weakness, death,
Our life, apart from thine.
Apart from thee all gain is loss,
All labor vainly done;
The solemn shadow of thy cross
Is better than the sun.
Alone, O Love, ineffable!
Thy saving name is given:
To turn aside from thee is hell,
To walk with thee is heaven.
--John Greenleaf Whittier.