O only Source of all our light and life,
Whom as our truth, our strength, we
O Thou whose image in the shrine
Of human spirits dwells divine;
Which from that precinct once conveyed,
But whom the hours of mortal moral strife To be to outer day displayed,
Doth vanish, part, and leave behind
Mere blank and void of empty mind,
Mine inmost soul, before Thee inly Which wilful fancy seeks in vain
With casual shapes to fill again!
O Thou that in our bosom's shrine
Dost dwell, unknown because divine!
I thought to speak, I thought to say,
"The light is here," "behold the way,"
"The voice was thus," and "thus the
word,"
It dare not dare the dread communion Thou mayest either be or not.
I will not prate of “thus” and “so,”
And be profane with "yes" and "no,"
Enough that in our soul and heart
O not unowned, thou shalt unnamed for- Thou, whatsoe'er Thou may'st be, art. give,
In worldly walks the prayerless, heart
Unseen, secure in that high shrine
Acknowledged present and divine,
I will not ask some upper air,
Some future day to place Thee there;
Nor say, nor yet deny, such men
And women saw Thee thus and then:
Thy name was such, and there or here
To him or her Thou didst appear.
Do only Thou in that dim shrine,
Unknown or known, remain, divine;
There, or if not, at least in eyes
That scan the fact that round them lies,
The hand to sway, the judgment guide,
In sight and sense Thyself divide:
Be Thou but there, in soul and heart,
I will not ask to feel Thou art.
Spring never would, we thought, be here. Through the surf and through the swell,
The far-off sound of a silver bell?
Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep,
Where the winds are all asleep;
Where the spent lights quiver and gleam,
Where the salt weed sways in the stream,
Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round,
Feed in the ooze of their pasture-
ground;
Where the sea-snakes coil and twine,
Dry their mail and bask in the brine;
Where great whales come sailing by,
Sail and sail, with unshut eye,
Round the world for ever and aye?
When did music come this way?
Children dear, was it yesterday?
Children dear, was it yesterday (Call yet once) that she went away? Once she sate with you and me,
|