The spear hath lost its edge of pain;
And piercing thorns, that bound my brow,
No longer leave their bleeding stain.
What once was woe is changed to bliss;
What once was loss is now my gain;
My sorrow is my happiness;
My life doth live by being slain.
The birth-pangs of those dreadful years
Are like the midnight changed to morn;
And daylight shines upon my tears,
Because the soul's great life is born.
The piercing thorns have changed to flowers;
The spears have grown to sceptres bright;
And sorrow's dark and sunless hours
Become eternal days of light.
— Christ in the Soul (1872) XXIV.