The work is over, and the weary pen
Murmurs no more,—the midnight oil is spent;
Our Message uttered, now beyond our ken,
Out of the East, whence dawns the Light, ’tis sent.
Thus have we heard the Message of His Peace;
Thus have we told it,—from out Golden Fane;
Thus give it, that his Glory may increase;
So are we happy,—we shall hear again!
His Light go with thee to the waiting West,
Tale that we told in many a changeful strain:
Tale that we hold of all fair gifts the best;
Gift of the Law, with Love as thy refrain!
Our words not only! Tell afar, abroad,
The Tale that thrills our Hearts who bear His Name:
Tell as He told it,—He, the Stainless Lord,—
Not as we falter, but in Words of Flame!