III In Mortem. F. D. Maurice
So day by day my life, thus nearer drawn
Down the dark avenues unto the dawn,
Cries to Thee: O Lord, Lord of life and death,
Whom from our gaze the sad night sundereth,
Reveal Thyself; be unto us no more
A darkly-felt thick darkness by the shore;
But like the wind, that wingeth cold and clear
Before the dawn by meadow-land and mere,
Blow on us; scatter from our sickly brains
The feverish fancies that ill conscience feigns;
Raise us to stand like men to meet the strife,
Fearless and grand, because within thy life
Our lives are hidden,—as is his to-day,
Thy servant who from sight hath passed away.
April, 1872.