Waymark of victory, triumph white,
Pillared with beauty and domed with light.
Circle of empery, grand and good,
Crowning at last high womanhood.
Long had the solemn cross pointed the way
Down the dark centuries toward the day.
Sealed was the sepulcher, none saw Christ;
Woman, the first there, kept the tryst.
Dawned on her waiting heart vision of Life,
Blameless forever, unstained of strife.
Saw she the perfect round, Parian pure,
'Stablished in Spirit, in Love secure.
Here is a conqueror God hath crowned,—
Love slays the dragon without a wound.
What shall a world of woe offer here?
Ah! not a sword, but a cleansing tear!
Meekness in samite robed, bringing sheaves,
Nothing can give but a heart that receives.
Steps for the pilgrim are plain to trace,
Where who love God meet face to face;
Where, in the placid pool, troubled no more,
The heavens are mirrored from shore to shore.
Built is the shining whole, stone on stone,
Promise, fulfilment, and lo! the crown!
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