The Poetical Works of George Barlow :: :: University of Virginia Library

Great God of the wide seas, king too of the space
Severing star from gold star, with thy dwelling-place
Far amid the cloud-lands, fold in thine embrace
Hearts whose intense emotion
Like world-wide tides of ocean
Yearneth for thy blessing, panteth for thy grace.

II

Pure as are the roses, white as is the foam,
Great God of the mountains, through the starry dome
Passing like the night-wind, lift us, waft us, home;
For we cry with daring,
Suffering souls upbearing,—
Souls that through life's desert, stricken, struggling, roam.

III

Art thou in the heavens? dost thou, high God, care
Nothing for the torment which with winged swift spear
Blood-dyed at the sharp point, doth assail us here?
Are we alone for ever?
Wilt thou redeem us never?
Nor sweep the thunderous dark-hued threatening fierce skies clear?

IV

Grant us thy redemption: make us one with thee
In thy rapture-dawn in morning o'er the sea,
In thy passion-calm in sunset's purity;
Let the strange white cloud-billows
For our souls too as pillows
Gleam forth; let man victorious o'er outspread nature be.

V

God, thou art immortal; burn us with thy flame,
With the soul-deep longing that for utter shame
Purifies each effort, cleanses every aim,—
That we may find the death-land
But one divine rose-breath land,
Treading it triumphant, trusting in thy Name.

VI

Oh, thy flowers are endless; why should human feet
Vanish, when thou fillest woods with meadow-sweet
Every fresh year gently, for the woods to greet?
Canst thou not save the nations
Who bring thee heart-oblations
As thou yearly savest, God, the golden wheat?

VII

Raise us from our sins, God,—lift us from the tomb;
Make each woman's soul pure as a rose in bloom;
In each strong man's spirit every sin consume;
With sacred selfless love fulfil us;
With thy sweet spirit's yearning thrill us;
A sun of hope, divide thou all the wavering gloom.

VIII

Strengthen us to march on, stedfast day by day,
Brace us, purge us, guide us, guard us, God we pray;
Through the burning noontide, through the twilight grey,
Be with us, great God, to deliver;
Fill thou with shafts our spirit's quiver;
Be our brazen buckler in the blind affray.

IX

Be to us in love-land timely shield and shade;
As a giant oak-tree watching o'er a glade:
Let thy perfect calm bright passion-land pervade;
Bend thou above the perfect sleep
Of lovers with thy wings that weep
Dewdrops divine above them, ready e'er to aid.

X

Thou art the spirit of love, God: thou thy love instil;
With thy power of passion all our soul's veins fill;
We would love in one line with thy loving will;
Let all things else save love be dead,
But love lift high her timeless head,—
Love with the force to fashion, make alive or kill.

XI

Let our souls be music: thou art music, Lord—
Music's stainless awful rapture-wingéd sword;
Thy great heart respondeth, answereth, chord by chord,
The music of the ages
That now desponds, now rages,
Triumphs again, tremendous, through vast channels poured.

XII

God, through pain, through anguish, make us one with thee:
One with hill and sky-line: one with surging sea:
One with thine own splendid death-surmounting free
Great soul that fills all things
With music of sweet wings
Floating above the tides of years that flee.

1880.