 | The Christian Scholar |  |
But why this apprehension not to be,
This fear of non-existence, like a sea
Which secretly beneath our nature dwells,
And by some unseen influence heaves and swells;
Oft-times with this tempestuous fury wakes,
And all our being to its centre shakes?
'Tis that God's Breath within us gives to be
Partakers of His own eternity—
For this the unconscious soul toils day and night,
Turns in and out all things of sense and sight,—
For reconciled reunion with its God,—
For this in paths so alien hath it trod,
And through all phases of tumultuous strife
Annihilation flees, and clings to life.
Therefore we thus recoil, and strive to soar
From those sad shapes which sit beside death's door.
Yet but unreal phantoms are they found,
Mists which the vestibule alone surround.
For Shame, Contempt, and Poverty severe
With Christ Himself in death's dark shades appear,
And reconciled with them in Him to die
Is to be clothed with His eternity.
This fear of non-existence, like a sea
Which secretly beneath our nature dwells,
And by some unseen influence heaves and swells;
Oft-times with this tempestuous fury wakes,
And all our being to its centre shakes?
'Tis that God's Breath within us gives to be
Partakers of His own eternity—
For this the unconscious soul toils day and night,
Turns in and out all things of sense and sight,—
For reconciled reunion with its God,—
For this in paths so alien hath it trod,
And through all phases of tumultuous strife
Annihilation flees, and clings to life.
Therefore we thus recoil, and strive to soar
From those sad shapes which sit beside death's door.
Yet but unreal phantoms are they found,
Mists which the vestibule alone surround.
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With Christ Himself in death's dark shades appear,
And reconciled with them in Him to die
Is to be clothed with His eternity.
| The Christian Scholar | |