That which we dare invoke to bless; Our dearest faith; our ghastliest doubt; He, They, One, All; within, without; The Power in darkness whom we guess, -- I found Him not in world or sun, Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye, Nor thro' the questions men may try, The petty cobwebs we have spun. If e'er when faith had fallen asleep, I heard a voice, 'believe no more,' And heard an ever-breaking shore That tumbled in the Godless deep, A warmth within the breast would melt The freezing reason's colder part, And like a man in wrath the heart Stood up and answer'd, 'I have felt.' No, like a child in doubt and fear: But that blind clamor made me wise; Then was I as a child that cries, But, crying, knows his father near; And what I am beheld again What is, and no man understands; And out of darkness came the hands That reach thro' nature, moulding men. |