Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/165

Bear to my soul thy blessing from on high,
That dayspring of our God whose beams shall never die.

With holy words of psalmist and of seer,
    With penitential prayers in secret born,
With chant and worship of the temple dear,
    Come thou to me, O consecrated morn;
Descend and touch devotion's slumbering chord,
And tell to listening faith the rising of her Lord.

Yes, raise me o'er the dust and care of life,
    A little way towards that celestial seat,
Where, freed for aye from vanity and strife,
    The "just made perfect" in communion meet;
Show me their vestments gleaming from the sky,
Pour through heaven's opening gate their echoed minstrelsy,

And I will thank thee, though to earth I turn,
    And all too soon from thy bless'd precepts stray,
Though in my breast its fever-thirst should burn,
    And storm or shipwreck daunt my venturous way,
Still will I grasp thee as a golden chain,
And bind thee to my heart until we meet again.