NOT what we think, but what we do, Makes saints of us: all stiff and cold, The outlines of the corpse show through The cloth of gold. And in despite the outward sin, -- Despite belief with creeds at strife, -- The principle of love within Leavens the life. For, 't is for fancied good, I claim, That men do wrong, -- not wrong's desire; Wrapping themselves, as 't were, in flame To cheat the fire. Not what God gives, but what He takes, Uplifts us to the holiest height; On truth's rough crags life's current breaks To diamond light. From transient evil I do trust That we a final good shall draw; That in confusion, death, and dust Are light and law. That He whose glory shines among The eternal stars, descends to mark This foolish little atom swung Loose in the dark. But though I should not thus receive A sense of order and control, My God, I could not disbelieve My sense of soul. For though, alas! I can but see A hand's breadth backward, or before, I am, and since I am, must be For evermore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SUPPLIANT by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A DECANTER OF MADEIRA, AGED 86, TO GEORGE BANCROFT, AGED 86 by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL MAPLE LEAVES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SONG, FR. A VISION OF GIOGIONE: GEMMA'S SONG ON THE WATER by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE METHOD OF THE MAD MULLAH by BERTON BRALEY |