Why weep in the darkness when flame and gold
Lie up in the west, and the hillsides glow
With the opaline light along them rolled,
From the sun that is sinking low?

The surge of the storm sweeping far away,
With its glitter of lightning linked and curled,
Now dashes its tossing and torrent spray
Beyond the cold edge of the world.

And the flowers that bent down before its blast,
Now open their eyes to the brilliant sun;
And from tears by the storm-clouds on them cast,
A glorious garment is spun.

And the hope that darkened, when darkness lay
On the earth like a mantle, comes once more,
And its clear glance sees through the fading day
The loom of eternity's shore.

And the love that was born when morning came
In crimson and amber along the sea,
Now has grown a giant no death can claim,
And sovereign, not slave, will be.

It can never forget, it can never die,
Like the marks of time and the bounds of space,
It is older than earth, than the sun more high
And has seen God face to face.

When a soul loves true, then the saints bend down
From their thrones of light, and life loses tears,
And immortal made by a kiss, they crown
It master of all the years.