canticle de profundis.
153
CANTICLE DE PROFUNDIS.
GLORY to Thee, Father of all the Immortal,
Ever belongs:
We bring Thee from our watch by the grave's portal
Nothing but songs.
Though every wave of trouble has gone o'er us,—
Though in the fire
We have lost treasures time cannot restore us,—
Though all desire
That made life beautiful fades out in sorrow;—
Though the strange path
Winding so lonely through the bleak to-morrow,
No comfort hath;—
Though blackness gathers round us on all faces,
And we can see
By the red war-flash but Love's empty places;—
Glory to Thee!
Ever belongs:
We bring Thee from our watch by the grave's portal
Nothing but songs.
Though every wave of trouble has gone o'er us,—
Though in the fire
We have lost treasures time cannot restore us,—
Though all desire
That made life beautiful fades out in sorrow;—
Though the strange path
Winding so lonely through the bleak to-morrow,
No comfort hath;—
Though blackness gathers round us on all faces,
And we can see
By the red war-flash but Love's empty places;—
Glory to Thee!
For, underneath the crash and roar of battle,
The deafening roll
The deafening roll
