Life’s harvest is not reaped until
The Christ within has grown
To perfect manhood, and self-will
By love is overthrown.
Such manhood gained concludes the strife
That makes the babe a boy;
’Tis thus the seed becomes a life,
The life becomes a joy.
The eyes that weep are eyes that see,
And swift are pilgrim-feet;
Ah! hope at length may come to be
Than memory more sweet.