So deep the basis lies
Of life's great pyramid,
That out of reach of common eyes
Prophetic work is hid.
His reign for which we pray,
His kingdom undefiled,
Whose scepter shall not pass away,
Is in a little child.
* * * * *
A Little Child
Come hither, little child,
And bring thy heart to me;
Thou art the true and unbeguiled,
So full of melody.
The presence of a child
Has taught me more of heaven,
And more my heart has reconciled
Than Greece's immortal Seven.
For when I sometimes think
That life is void of song,
Before a little child I sink
And own that I am wrong.
And lo my heart grows bright
That was so dark and drear,
Till in the tender morning light
I find the Lord is near.
* * * * *
The Divine Presence
O, when the Lord is near,
The rainbow banners wave;
The star I follow shineth clear,
I am no more a slave.
As if to honor Him,
My work is true and free;
And flowing to the shining brim,
The cup of heaven I see.
I marvel not that song
Should be employment there
In which the innumerable throng
Their palms of triumph bear;
Or that the choral strife
And golden harps express
The stirring labors of the life
Of peace and righteousness.
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