And Art Thou Come With Us To Dwell? Poem by Dora Greenwell

And art Thou come with us to dwell,
Our Prince, our Guide, our Love, our Lord?
And is Thy Name Emmanuel,
God present with His world restored?

The world is glad for Thee! the rude
Wild moor, the city's crowded pen;
Each waste, each peopled solitude,
Becomes a home for happy men.

The heart is glad for Thee! It knows
None now shall bid it err or mourn;
And o?er its desert breaks the rose
In triumph o?er the grieving thorn.

Thou bringest all again; with Thee
Is light, is space, is breadth and room
For each thing fair, beloved, and free
To have its hour of life and bloom.

Each heart's deep instinct unconfes'd;
Each lowly wish, each daring claim;
All, all that life hath long repress'd,
Unfolds undreading blight or blame.

Thy reign eternal will not cease;
Thy years are sure, and glad, and slow;
Within thy mighty world of peac
The humblest flower hath leave to blow.

And with thy guiding help we pierce
Life's labyrinth now no longer vain;
The Love that frees the universe
Hath made its broken story plain.

Then come to heal thy people's smart,
And with Thee bring thy captive train;
Come, Saviour of the world and heart,
Come, mighty Victor over pain,

And let our earth's wild story cease
Its broken tale of wrong and tears;
Come, Lord of Salem, Prince of Peace,
And bring again our vanished years.

The world is glad for Thee! the heart
Is glad for Thee! and all is well,
And fixed and sure, because Thou art,
Whose Name is called Emmanuel.