Part 2 — THE GOLDEN WEDDING
Reading edition
O Love, whose patient pilgrim feet Life's longest path have trod; Whose ministry hath symbolled sweet The dearer love of God; The sacred myrtle wreathes again Thine altar, as of old; And what was green with summer then, Is mellowed now to gold.
Not now, as then, the future's face Is flushed with fancy's light; But memory, with a milder grace, Shall rule the feast to-night. Blest was the sun of joy that shone, Nor less the blinding shower; The bud of fifty years agone Is love's perfected flower.
O memory, ope thy mystic door; O dream of youth, return; And let the light that gleamed of yore Beside this altar burn. The past is plain; 'twas love designed E'en sorrow's iron chain; And, mercy's shining thread has twined With the dark warp of pain.
So be it still. O Thou who hast That younger bridal blest, Till the May-morn of love has passed To evening's golden west; Come to this later Cana, Lord, And, at thy touch divine, The water of that earlier board To-night shall turn to wine.
David Gray [1837-1888]