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The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite

in two volumes ... With a Portrait

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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
XX THE CREDO
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
  
  
  
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
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 XLIII. 
 XLIV. 
 XLV. 
 XLVI. 
 XLVII. 

XX
THE CREDO

Those truths which most call for expression are those also which exceed it.

Inexpressible

Now, let us here in secret, as if drawn
Together in some holy place apart
To welcome in the day-star ere it dawn,
Declare the hidden matter—heart to heart:
Nay, it eludes the thought, however high,
And words still fail him who would testify.
Master, we came from Thee—Thou knowest when—
And unto Thee return; the time and mode
Are in Thy hands. There is a reason why,
And this we feel. Keep clear, we pray, the road;
Apart from Thee nothing can satisfy:
Lead, and still lead the trembling hearts of men.
This is our faith in Thee, our strong defence:
Do Thou fulfil it in experience!


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The fact that there is one issue for everything and one test by which alone it can be judged does not interfere with the other fact that there is more than one answer to most questions, or that the gifts of interpretation are various. We continue, therefore, to say: Credo in unum Deum —and all that follows thereafter—with a heart of holy aspiration.