Classic Poem

The wind rang out from depths of woods
And pealed through valleys bent
Among the echoing hills like tubes
Of some vast instrument.
Its sound we heard; but know not whence
It came, nor whither went.

The wind upon our forehead blows:
In gleams of lambent flame
The sunbeams flash from wave and leaf:
The hour is now the same
As when to Christ's anointed twelve
That promised Spirit came.

The sound as of a rushing wind
Before His wings He flung:
And leaped on those uplifted brows
In many a flaming tongue!—
O breathe on us Thy seven-fold powers:
O dwell our hearts among!

Live thou in Christ's mysterious vine,
Until her branches spread
Among the stars—to them as flowers
'Mid locks of one new wed:
And clasp in their descending arch
The earth's wide bridal-bed!