NOT yet thou knowest what I do, O feeble child of earth, Whose life is but to angel view The morning of thy birth! The smallest leaf, the simplest flower, The wild bee's honey-cell, Have lessons of My love and power Too hard for thee to spell. Thou knowest not how I uphold The little thou dost scan; And how much less canst thou unfold My universal plan, Where all thy mind can grasp of space Is but a grain of sand; -- The time thy boldest thought can trace, One ripple on the strand! Not yet thou knowest what I do In this wild, warring world, Whose prince doth still triumphant view Confusion's flag unfurled; Nor how each proud and daring thought Is subject to My will, Each strong and secret purpose brought My counsel to fulfill. Not yet thou knowest how I bid Each passing hour entwine Its grief or joy, its hope or fear, In one great love-design; Nor how I lead thee through the night, By many a various way, Still upward to unclouded light, And onward to the day. Not yet thou knowest what I do Within thine own weak breast, To mold thee to My image true, And fit thee for My rest. But yield thee to My loving skill; The veiled work of grace, From day to day progressing still, It is not thine to trace. Yes, walk by faith and not by sight, Fast clinging to My hand; Content to feel My love and might, Not yet to understand. A little while thy course pursue, Till grace to glory grow; Then what I am, and what I do, Hereafter thou shalt know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUGGESTED BY THE COVER OF A VOLUME OF KEATS'S POEMS by AMY LOWELL THE ROPEWALK by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW ODE TO WORK by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS A PICTURE AT NEWSTEAD by MATTHEW ARNOLD PSALM 84 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. SQUINANCY-WORT by EDWARD CARPENTER TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. THE DEAD COMRADE by EDWARD CARPENTER |