Lord, in the clear white starlight how they gleam
Those myriad crosses thou hast set to be
Guide posts and guardians for the heart of me,
That quails, and cowers, as some faint moonbeam
Lightens their pallid faces, till they seem
Frowning and fierce! O Lord look piteously
From thy far heaven as once from Calvary,
On me who struggle thro’ life’s anguished dream!
Sudden the starlight waneth wan, and dead,
The moon a blown rose-petal, faint and white;
And, lo! the dawn with fair gold flowers and red
Hath filled the empty skies, and one bedight
With sunshine for a garment, standeth nigh,
"Child, where mine hand sets crosses there am I!"