Faith

I thought, if I could go and stand
Beside our dear one's grave in Faith,
And lift the voice, and stretch the hand,
And call on Him who conquered Death;

And then, in my reliance deep,
Bid the new-buried corpse come forth, —
The call of Faith would break that sleep,
And animate that lifeless earth.

But while I pondered thus, within
A gentle voice reminded me
That I was weak, and soiled with sin, —
That Faith must strong and holy be.

'Raise up the deadness of thy soul
Be pure, and watch, and fast, and pray;
Then mayst thou bid the sick be whole,
Then shall the dead thy voice obey.'

Lord God the Spirit! purify
My thoughts — bind fast my life to Thee;
So shall I meet my babe on high,
Though he may not return to me.