PRAYER OF THE LONELY STUDENT.
57
Thro' bright self-offering, earnest, child-like, lone,
For mounting to thy throne!
And let my soul, upborne
On wings of inner morn,
Of that blest work, its own high recompense.
The dimness melts away,
That on your glory lay,
Through the dissolving veil,
Which made each aspect pale,
And once again a shower
Of hope, and joy, and power,
And, if that splendour to my sobered sight
Come tremulous, with more of pensive light—
Something, though beautiful, yet deeply fraught,
With more that pierces thro' each fold of thought