| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 1090. He Made Us Free |
| | | By Maurice Francis Egan |
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| AS flame streams upward, so my longing thought | |
| Flies up with Thee, | |
| Thou God and Saviour, who hast truly wrought | |
| Life out of death, and to us, loving, brought | |
| A fresh, new world; and in Thy sweet chains caught, | 5 |
| And made us free! | |
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| As hyacinths make way from out the dark, | |
| My soul awakes, | |
| At thought of Thee, like sap beneath the bark; | |
| As little violets in field and park | 10 |
| Rise to the trilling thrush and meadow-lark, | |
| New hope it takes. | |
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| As thou goest upward through the nameless space | |
| We call the sky, | |
| Like jonquil perfume softly falls Thy grace; | 15 |
| It seems to touch and brighten every place; | |
| Fresh flowers crown our wan and weary race, | |
| O Thou on high! | |
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| Hadst Thou not risen, there would be no joy | |
| Upon earth’s sod; | 20 |
| Life would be still with us a wound or toy, | |
| A cloud without the sun,—O Babe, O Boy, | |
| O Man of Mother pure, with no alloy, | |
| O risen God! | |
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| Thou, God and King, didst “mingle in the game,” | 25 |
| (Cease, all fears; cease!) | |
| For love of us,—not to give Virgil’s fame | |
| Or Croesus’ wealth, not to make well the lame, | |
| Or save the sinner from deservëd shame, | |
| But for sweet Peace! | 30 |
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| For peace, for joy,—not that the slave might lie | |
| In luxury, | |
| Not that all woe from us should always fly, | |
| Or golden crops with Syrian roses vie | |
| In every field; but in Thy peace to die | 35 |
| And rise,—be free! | |
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