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THE COLLECT |
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The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | ||
XV
THE COLLECT
The consolation which carries us along is that, seeing there is but one true road no one can err therein.
Consummation
Fear not frustration of our good intent,But fear the feeble working of our wills;
Fail'd never yet the soul which, seeking, went,
Far as soul could, upon the great ascent:
What by the Word Divine—say, God—is meant?
He that fulfils!
Do not despise the trifles, but do not let them deceive us!
The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | ||