Hymn for a Sick Girl

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Hymn for a Sick Girl

Father, in the dark I lay,

Thirsting for the light,

Helpless, but for hope alway

In thy father-might.

Out of darkness came the morn,

Out of death came life,

I, and faith, and hope, new-born,

Out of moaning strife!

So, one morning yet more fair,

I shall, joyous-brave,

Sudden breathing loftier air,

Triumph o’er the grave.

Though this feeble body lie

Underneath the ground,

Wide awake, not sleeping, I

Shall in him be found.

But a morn yet fairer must

Quell this inner gloom⁠—

Resurrection from the dust

Of a deeper tomb!

Father, wake thy little child;

Give me bread and wine

Till my spirit undefiled

Rise and live in thine.