Be Ye Therefore Perfect. Poem by Lucy Larcom

OH, the beauty and the joy of living
As the children of our Father, God!
All we have and hope for gladly giving
His abounding love to pour abroad, —
Healing waters of His pure salvation,
Through the world for which His Son has died:
Sharing in our Master's consecration;
Walking at our Elder Brother's side.

Wonderful the whiteness of Thy glory!
Can we truly that perfection share?
Yes; our lives are pages of Thy story;
We Thy shape and superscription bear:
Tarnished forms — torn leaves — but Thou canst mend them;
Thou Thine own completeness canst unfold
From our imperfections, and wilt end them;
Dross consuming, turning dust to gold.

Like a snowy mountain-peak above us,
'Be ye perfect!' dazzles our dim eyes.
Canst Thou look from Thy pure height and love us?
May our earth-clogged feet to Thee arise?
We before the vision veil our faces,
Yet would have it not a ray less bright.
Shine into our sin's dark hiding-places!
Fill us, flood us with Thy cleansing light!

Perfect even as Thou art perfect, Father!
As the little hilltops catch the sun;
As the small shoots springing up together
Round the Tree of Life, with it are one.
In these earthen vessels heavenly treasure
For the enrichment of Thy poor may shine:
Thou canst fill us, in our human measure,
With Thy being's overflow divine.

Perfect only with God's own perfection!
Drop the crumbling model shaped of clay!
Break the weak ideal of man's erection!
Let the Real burn the false away!
This is life — to pour out love unstinted!
Good and evil sunlike blesseth He:
Through your finite is His infinite hinted: —
Children of your Father must ye be.