University of Virginia Library

And let it come!
That God who sits above the water-spouts
Remains unshaken. Paula, what is earth?
A little bubble trembling ere it breaks,
The plaything of that grey-haired infant, Time,
Who breaks whate'er He plays with. I was strong:
See how He played with me! Am I not broken?
Albeit I strove with men of might; albeit
Those two great Gregories clasped me, palm to palm;
Albeit I fought with beasts at Ephesus
And bear their tokens still; albeit the wastes
Knew me, and lions fled; albeit this hand
Wrinkled and prone hurled to the dust God's scorners,
Am I not broken? Lo, this hour I raise
High o'er that ruin and wreck of life not less
This unsubverted head that bent not ever,
And make my great confession ere I die,
Since hope I have, though earthly hope no more:
And this is my confession: God is great;
There is no other greatness; God is good;
There is no other goodness. He alone
Is true Existence; all beside is dream.
Likewise confession make I that His Hand,
Which made all worlds, and made them to His glory,
Which touches earthly greatness and it dies,
Shall touch one day the dead within their graves
And lift them to His life. That Death Divine
Hath raised mankind above all fates and fortunes.
Paula, when thou hast closed these eyes in death
And laid this body in this holy land
Close by thy kinsfolk whom in life I loved,
Record of me, not dangers, labours, triumphs;
Record alone that in the day of death
Christ was my stay; He only; that on Him,
Bending above the imminent grave, I leaned—
God's penitent not less than confessor—
My total being, body, soul, and spirit,
His liegeful servant. Holy is the feast
He keepeth; and His Truth remains for aye.