Upheld and ordered by a regnant will; Thy wisdom, seer and priest of holy fate, Searching all truths its prophecy to fill;
But this my joy: throned in thy heart so great, High Love is queen, and sits without a mate.
I would I were a child, That I might look, and laugh, and say, My Father! And follow thee with running feet, or rather Be led through dark and wild!
How I would hold thy hand, My glad eyes often to thy glory lifting! Should darkness 'twixt thy face and mine come drifting, My heart would but expand.
If an ill thing came near, I would but creep within thy mantle's folding, Shut my eyes close, thy hand yet faster holding, And soon forget my fear.
O soul, O soul, rejoice! Thou art God's child indeed, for all thy sinning; A poor weak child, yet his, and worth the winning With saviour eyes and voice.
Who spake the words? Didst Thou? They are too good, even for such a giver: Such water drinking once, I should feel ever As I had drunk but now.
Yet sure the Word said so, Teaching our lips to cry with his, Our Father! Telling the tale of him who once did gather His goods to him, and go!
Ah, thou dost lead me, God! But it is dark and starless, the way dreary; Almost I sleep, I am so very weary Upon this rough hill-road.
_Almost_! Nay, I _do_ sleep; There is no darkness save in this my dreaming; Thy fatherhood above, around, is beaming; Thy hand my hand doth keep.
With sighs my soul doth teem; I have no knowledge but that I am sleeping; Haunted with lies, my life will fail in weeping; Wake me from this my dream.
How long shall heavy night Deny the day? How long shall this dull sorrow Say in my heart that never any morrow Will bring the friendly light?
Lord, art thou in the room? Come near my bed; oh, draw aside the curtain! A child's heart would say _Father_, were it certain That it would not presume.
But if this dreary sleep May not be broken, help thy helpless sleeper To rest in thee; so shall his sleep grow deeper-- For evil dreams too deep.
_Father_! I dare at length; My childhood sure will hold me free from blaming: Sinful yet hoping, I to thee come, claiming Thy tenderness, my strength.
_All sights and sounds of day and year, All groups and forms, each leaf and gem, Are thine, O God, nor will I fear To talk to thee of them_.