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Dearest and Best! Light of my way!
Soul of my Soul, whom God hath sent
To be my guardian night and day,
To make me humbly kneel and pray,
When proudest and most turbulent!
Calm of my Life! dear Angel mine!
Come to me, now I faint and fail,
And guide me softly to the Shrine,
Where thro' the deep'ning gloom doth shine
Life's bleeding Heart, Love's Holy Grail,
Where Soul feels Soul, and Instinct, stirred
To Insight, looks Creation thro',
And hear me murmur, word by word,
The Creed I owe to Heaven and you!

‘I do believe in God; that He
Made Heaven and Earth, and you and me!
Nay, I believe in all the host
Of Gods, from Jesus down to Joss,
But honour best and reverence most
That guileless God who bore the Cross.
I do believe that this dark scheme,
This riddle of our life below,
Is solved by Insight and by Dream,
And not by aught mere Sense can know;
That the one sacrifice whereby
We attest a faith which cannot die,
Is the burnt offering we place
On Truth's pure Altar day by day,
Whereby the sensual and the base
Within us is consumed away;
That just as far as we forego
Our selfish claim to stand alone,
Proving our gladness or our woe
Is Humankind's and not our own,
So far as for another's sake
Our cup of sorrow we accept,
And crave, although our hearts should break,
The pain supreme of God's Adept,
So far shall we attain the height
Of Freedom, in the Master's sight.
I do believe that our salvation
Lies in the little things of life,
Not in the pomp and acclamation
Of triumph, or in battle-strife,
Not on the thrones where men are crown'd,
Not in the race where chariots roll,
But in the arms that clasp us round
And hold us backward from the goal!
In Love, not Pride; in stooping low,
Not soaring blindly at the sun;
In power to feel, not zeal to know;
Not in rewards, but duties done.

‘Corollary: all gain is base,
The Victor's wreath, the Poet's crown,
If conquest in the giddy race
Means one poor struggler trampled down,
If he who gains the sunless throne
Of Fame, sits silent and alone,
Without Humanity to share
His happiness, or his despair!

‘This Gospel I uphold, the one
The latter Adam comes to prove:
To every Soul beneath the sun
Wide open lies a Heaven of Love;
But none, however free from sin,
However cloth'd in pomp and pride,
However fair, may enter in,
Without some Witness at his side,
To attest before the Judge and King
Vicarious love and suffering.
Who stands alone, shall surely fall!
Who folds the falling to his breast
Stands sure and firm in spite of all,
While angel-choirs proclaim him blest.’

Dearest and Best! Soul of my Soul!
Life of my Life, kneel here with me!
Pray while the Storms around us roll,
That God may keep us frail, yet free!
Be Love our strength! be God our goal!
Amen, et Benedicite!