University of Virginia Library

Eternal Power
That called'st me forth from nothing, I return
To Thee, my Maker. Sinner though I be
My life has not been void. The coral worm
In the dark laborious, builds up continents:
Shall we, Thy creatures of the hand and head,
Leave naught for God or man? Through help of Thine
I laboured to be worthy of that help;
Yea, tremble ofttimes to have wrought some tasks
Fitter for cleaner hand. Cædmon bewailed
‘In youth I shamed to sing amiss: in age
To have sung, impostor-like, some strains too high
For one so scant of grace.’—At best I made
Beginning only: perfect, Thou, that work
Lest, lacking roof the rain corrode the walls.
My People want not zeal, but they are heady:
Imaginations wild take hold of them
As sensual lures on men of southern climes,
Yea, with a subtler might; for thus 'tis writ,
‘Our wrestling is with Spirits in high places,
The Princes of the Powers of the air
That rule in Darkness.’ Teach my People, God,
Humility! When those tempestuous fires
That swell this day their hearts, to the brain ascending
There kindle storm of thought—bid them that hour
Revere his voice, the Gentiles' Teacher sage,
The man for measureless wisdom scorned as mad,
Who, raised at times to visions of the Lord,
A mystic walking ever in the Spirit,
Was instant thus: ‘Be sober, and keep watch:
Be not o'er-wise, for knowledge puffeth up,
Charity buildeth up.’