Poems (Larcom)/More Life

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MORE LIFE.
  NOT weary of Thy world, So beautiful, O Father, in Thy love, Thy world, that, glory-lighted from above,   Lies in thy hand impearled:
  Not asking rest from toil;—Sweet toil, that draws us nearer to Thy side; Ever to tend Thy planting satisfied,   Though in ungenial soil:
  Nor to be freed from care, That lifts us out of self's lone hollowness; Since unto Thy dear feet we all may press,   And leave our burdens there:
  But O for tireless strength! A life untainted by the curse of sin, That spreads no vile contagion from within;—  Found without spot, at length!
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  For power, and stronger will To pour out love from the heart's inmost springs; A constant freshness for all needy things;   In blessing, blessed still!
  O to be clothed upon With the white radiance of a heavenly form! To feel the winged Psyche quit the worm,   Life, life eternal won!
  O to be free, heart-free From all that checks the right endeavor here! To drop the weariness,—the pain,—the fear,—  To know death cannot be!
  O but to breathe in air Where there can be no tyrant and no slave; Where every thought is pure, and high, and brave,   And all that is is fair!
  More life! the life of heaven! A perfect liberty to do Thy will: Receiving all from Thee, and giving still,   Freely as Thou hast given!
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  More life! a prophecy Is in that thirsty cry, if read aright. Deep calleth unto deep: Life Infinite,   O soul, awaiteth thee!
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