Benedicite

John Greenleaf Whittier (1807–1892)

GOD’S love and peace be with thee, where

Soe’er this soft autumnal air

Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair!

Whether through city casements comes

Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms,

Or, out among the woodland blooms,

It freshens o’er thy thoughtful face,

Imparting, in its glad embrace,

Beauty to beauty, grace to grace!

Fair Nature’s book together read,

The old wood-paths that knew our tread,

The maple shadows overhead,—

The hills we climbed, the river seen

By gleams along its deep ravine,—

All keep thy memory fresh and green.

Where’er I look, where’er I stray,

Thy thought goes with me on my way,

And hence the prayer I breathe to-day:

O’er lapse of time and change of scene,

The weary waste which lies between

Thyself and me, my heart I lean.

Thou lack’st not Friendship’s spellword, nor

The half-unconscious power to draw

All hearts to thine by Love’s sweet law.

With these good gifts of God is cast

Thy lot, and many a charm thou hast

To hold the blessèd angels fast.

If, then, a fervent wish for thee

The gracious heavens will heed from me,

What should, dear heart, its burden be?

The sighing of a shaken reed,—

What can I more than meekly plead

The greatness of our common need?

God’s love,—unchanging, pure, and true,—

The Paraclete white-shining through

His peace,—the fall of Hermon’s dew!

With such a prayer, on this sweet day,

As thou mayst hear and I may say,

I greet thee, dearest, far away!