Love moves under all disguises,
Seeking to be known:
Glad to be at last mistaken
For no other one;
Practicing us till no other
Voice or form or feature be
To us like to our Beloved's:
Sole among ten thousand, He.

Oh that mid the dull lack-luster
Of our common lives, the sheen
Of that glorious Presence always,
Wheresoever He moves, were seen!
Faith alone it needs that glory
Of th' Invisible to see:
His who where He is must have us,
Where we are must with us be.

Oh for need of Him that could not
Bid Him turn aside,
Still alone, among His chosen,
Stranger to abide.
Come so far to have us with Him
In the glory, on the throne:
There to be without distraction
Still and all His own:-

By the glory of that passion,
Which He could not share,
Where we could not follow,-
Standing for us there:
In the uttermost gulf abasing
All His glory for our need:
In that dread disguise of sorrow,
Night, as if it had not morrow,-
Only-evermore-unhid,
Uttermost love indeed.

Yes, from out the inner darkness
Now the Light has broken:
From the unanswering silence now
Th' Eternal Voice has spoken.
Love which now mid all disguises
Seeks but to be known;
Claims our perfect recognition,-
Claims our trust without suspicion,
Ours who once have seen, have heard
Christ the Word.

Come, Lord, make Thyself a place,
Answering to Thy matchless grace!
Set us from Thy rivals free,
Everywhere to walk with Thee.

F. W. G.