Classic Poem

O Love divine, whose constant beam
Shines on the eyes that will not see,
And waits to bless us, while we dream
Thou leav'st us when we turn from thee!

All souls that struggle and aspire,
All hearts of prayer, by thee are lit;
Or dim or clear, thy tongues of fire
On dusky tribes and centuries sit.

And everywhere thy Spirit walks
With man as under Eden's trees,
In gardens of the heart, and talks
In all his varied languages.

Nor bound, nor clime, nor creed thou know'st;
Wide as our need thy favors fall;
The white wings of the Holy Ghost
Stoop, unseen, o'er the heads of all.