Immortal love, forever full,
Forever flowing free,
Forever shared, forever whole,
A never-ebbing sea!

No fable old, nor mythic lore,
Nor dream of bards and seers,
No dead fact stranded on the shore
Of the oblivious years;---

But warm, sweet, tender, even yet
A present help is He;
And faith has still its Olivet,
And love its Galilee.

Through Him the first fond prayers are said
Our lips of childhood frame,
The last low whispers of our dead
Are hallowed with His Name.

O Lord and Master of us all!
Whate'er our name or sign,
We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call,
We test our lives by Thine.

John Greenleaf Whittier*   **1807-1892