must stir the darkling deep,
  The Dove must settle on the Cross,
Else we should all sin on or sleep
  With Christ in sight, turning our gain to loss.

Now is there solemn pause in earth and heaven;
  The Conqueror now
  His bonds hath riven,
And Angels wonder why He stays below:
  Yet hath not man his lesson learned,
  How endless love should be returned.

Deep is the silence as of summer noon,
  When a soft shower
  Will trickle soon,
A gracious rain, freshening the weary bower -
  O sweetly then far off is heard
  The clear note of some lonely bird.

So let Thy turtle-dove's sad call arise
  In doubt and fear
  Through darkening skies,
And pierce, O Lord, Thy justly-sealed ear,
  Where on the house-top, all night long
  She trills her widowed, faltering song.

Teach her to know and love her hour of prayer,
  And evermore,
  As faith grows rare,
Unlock her heart, and offer all its store
  In holier love and humbler vows,
  As suits a lost returning spouse.

Not as at first, but with intenser cry,
  Upon the mount
  She now must lie,
Till Thy dear love to blot the sad account
  Of her rebellious race be won,
  Pitying the mother in the son.