The Treasure

And now when from the shore goes out the ship Wherein is set the treasure that I hold Closer than miser all his hidden gold, Dearer than wine Zeus carried to his lip;

My aching heart cries from its pent-up pain,-- "O Love, O Life, O more than life to me, How can I live without the surety Of thy sweet presence till we meet again!"

So like a wounded deer I came to thee, The arrow of mischance piercing my side; And through thy sorrow-healing ministry

I rose with strength, like giants in their pride. But now--but now--how shall I stand alone, Knowing the light, the hope of me is gone?