To say you are a gift would be not right,
Though you have flashed on me such radiant light
That overwhelmed am I by blindness rare
That seems to see you every here and there,
And yet I cannot catch, or hold you still,
As through my mind you wing your tingling will.
So, not a gift are you, but thing more great,
For you’ll last out all seasons, good-bad years,
Not ever break apart, grow out of date;
But new of you will shine through smiles and tears,
And truth of you will steady all my days
As presents of your presence bear this praise:
O gift of gifts, that only true loves know
O radiant Radiance, sight’s blinding overthrow!