FEAR not: for He hath sworn:
Faithful and true His name:
The glorious hours are onward borne;
'Tis lit, th' immortal flame;
It glows around thee: kneel, and strive, and win
Daily one living ray — 'twill brighter glow within .

Yet fear: the time is brief;
The Holy One is near;
And, like a spent and wither'd leaf
In autumn-twilight drear,
Faster each hour, on Time's unslackening gale,
The dreaming world drives on, to where all visions fail.

Surely the time is short:
Endless the task and art,
To brighten for the ethereal court
A soil'd earth-drudging heart —
But He, the dread Proclaimer of that hour,
Is pledged to thee in Love, as to thy foes in Power

His shoulders bear the Key:
He opens — who can close?
Closes — and who dare open? — He
Thy soul's misgiving knows
If He come quick, the mightier sure will prove
His Spirit in each heart that timely strives to love

Then haste Thee, Lord! Come down,
Take Thy great power, and reign!
But frame Thee first a perfect Crown
Of spirits freed from stain,
Souls mortal once, now match'd for evermore
With the immortal gems that form'd Thy wreath before.

Who in Thy portal wait,
Free of that glorious throng,
Wondering, review their trial-state,
The life that erst seem'd long;
Wondering at His deep love, who purged so base
And earthly mould so soon for th' undefiled place
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