More Life

NOT weary of Thy world,So beautiful, O Father, in Thy love,Thy world, that, glory-lighted from above,Lies in thy hand impearled:

Not asking rest from toil;—Sweet toil, that draws us nearer to Thy side;Ever to tend Thy planting satisfied,Though in ungenial soil:

Nor to be freed from care,That lifts us out of self's lone hollowness;Since unto Thy dear feet we all may press,And leave our burdens there:

But O for tireless strength!A life untainted by the curse of sin,That spreads no vile contagion from within;—Found without spot, at length!

For power, and stronger willTo pour out love from the heart's inmost springs;A constant freshness for all needy things;In blessing, blessed still!

O to be clothed uponWith the white radiance of a heavenly form!To feel the winged Psyche quit the worm,Life, life eternal won!

O to be free, heart-freeFrom all that checks the right endeavor here!To drop the weariness,—the pain,—the fear,—To know death cannot be!

O but to breathe in airWhere there can be no tyrant and no slave;Where every thought is pure, and high, and brave,And all that is is fair!

More life! the life of heaven!A perfect liberty to do Thy will:Receiving all from Thee, and giving still,Freely as Thou hast given!

More life! a prophecyIs in that thirsty cry, if read aright.Deep calleth unto deep: Life Infinite,O soul, awaiteth thee!