WHEN COMES THE MORNING? (FROM IN GOD'S WAY) (See Note 77)

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_ _When_ comes the real morning?
When golden, the sun's rays hover
Over the earth's snow-cover,
And where the shadows nestle,
Wrestle,
Lifting lightward the root enringèd
Till it shall seem an angel wingèd,
Then it is morning,
Real, real morning.
But if the weather is bad
And my spirit sad,
Never morning I know.
No.

Truly, it's real morning,
When blossom the buds winter-beaten,
The birds having drunk and eaten
Are glad as they sing, divining
Shining
Great new crowns to the tree-tops given,
Cheering the brooks to the broad ocean riven.
Then it is morning,
Real, real morning.
But if the weather is bad
And my spirit sad,
Never morning I know.
No.

_When_ comes the real morning?
When power to conquer parries
Sorrow and storm, and carries
Sun to the soul, whose burning
Yearning
Opens in love and calls to others:
Good to be unto all as brothers.
_Then_ it is morning,
Real, real morning.
Greatest power you know
--And most dangerous, lo!--
Will you _this_ then possess?
Yes. _

Read next: MAY SEVENTEENTH (1883) (See Note 78)

Read previous: IN THE FOREST

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