 | The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite |  |
XXXVIII
NOBIS QUOQUE PECCATORIBUS
The greatest work in the world is that of building bridges.
De Profundis
Though oft I have fallen by the way, Mother mine,Yet I have not turn'd my face aside from Thee;
And Father, loving Father, in the world that is Thine
Thy great white light of glory I have look'd to see.
Take me then, for I am weary, I beseech Thee,
And I do not dread the gulfs or wastes between;
Lift me upward, being merciful, to reach Thee,
If I cannot cross the seas that intervene.
But even the intervening seas are the emanations of mercy.
| The collected poems of Arthur Edward Waite | |