1 What sound of lofty praise is this,
Suffusing all the air?
What agony, what untold bliss,
Are meeting, striving there?
Earth’s last great shadow—endless life
On one same threshold stand;
Immortal peace—earth’s darkest grief,
Both call from distant land.

2 "God owns me, Mother!" thus he spake,
What rest, what radiant joy!
Peace, stormy soul! For his dear sake,
Be still—God owns my boy.
A strange, cold shadow comes and goes
In those clear star-like eyes;
Life flickers now, it faintly glows,
A voice calls, "Spirit, rise!"

3 Lift up your heads, ye golden gates—
Once more that sound of joy!
"God owns me, Mother: Jesus waits
To welcome home your boy."
Thy rest is glorious, brave child!
Thy triumph early won!
Thy soul’s young tempest soon was stilled;
Thou’rt waiting—we will come.