Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

We never knew Him, when the breeze
Fanned with cool breath the twilight hour—
Nor when the springtide of the trees
Began, and waked each sleeping flower.

Nor when we watched at close of day
The tender glories of the west—
Nor when asleep the moonbeams lay
On Ocean's gently heaving breast.

But when in awe we gazed upon
The gathering storm-clouds dark and dread,
Or when the sudden lightning shone,
We knew that God was overhead.

And if the whirlwind swept us past
Till even the solid mountains shook,
We knew that God rode in the blast,
And that earth trembled at His look.

We feared Him, and we could not love,
For perfect love must cast out fear,
We feared Him—for He dwelt above—
We love Him when we find Him near.

Near us—within us—What is near
Except the Spirit that dwells within?
And who can see that Spirit clear?
What hands may lift the screen of sin?

That deep, dark, ever-hanging screen,
That veils unutterable light,
Veiling it—when it falls between
The Spirit and the Spirit's sight.

Only the perfect sinless soul
Can fathom its own depths, and win
Those clouds of utter light that roll
Ever and ever, far within.

But man was sinful—God was far,
And in His heaven far away
Dwelt till what time the Eastern star
Led to the cot where Jesus lay.

Why did He come? Ah, who can tell?
The book lies open for us to read—
Our sight is dim—we scarce can spell
The mystic symbols of our creed.

And all the wisdom of every age,
Gathering the fruits of all before,
Still finds there, turning page on page,
New depths of meaning evermore.

Deep mystery beyond our ken!
Yet broken lights there needs must be,
And this—Christ lived and died for men—
Shines through our darkness and we see.

He lived for men—that tells the whole—
He lost Himself in endless love,
And losing, gained His inmost soul,—
And found God there and not above.

He knew no self, and so His eyes
Could lift the veils of Time and Space,
Draw down the farness of the skies,
And see the Eternal face to face.

Ah! haply to our mortal sight
Seems dark and dim the path He trod,
But He had seen immortal light,
And God was with Him, and He was God.

Immeasurable mystery!
Lo! in a moment all our fears
And doubts are ended, and we see
With eyes undimmed by gathering tears.

God is the Father—not the King:
Man is His child, and not His slave;
Gone is the sharpness of Death's sting—
Gone is the terror of the grave:

For only Death can end the thrall
Of self, and set the spirit free,
That vainly yearns to measure all
The depths of its immensity,

And reach its innermost, and there
Gather within it all that seemed
Beyond—without—and so lay bare
The selfless self of which it dreamed.

But this life's fetters ever cling
Heavily round it, and in vain
It strives to ply its prisoned wing
And soar into the boundless main,—

Until death comes: and since Christ died
We all are glad that Death should come,
For death, dark death has light to guide
Our feet to God “Who is our home.”

This is the lesson Christ has taught,
And as we learn it we may guess
The vastness of the work He wrought,
And feel what words cannot express.

The secret of Eternal Life—
We cannot know it: it may be so,
But in the fierce hot onward strife
We feel it, see it, more than know.

Love—not the wisdom of the wise,
Shall find the secret hidden here:
But do thou love:—and even the eyes
Of little children read it clear.

For all self-losing dies in Love,
And only losing self we find
The goal to which all yearnings move,
The Highest self that lies behind,—

God—the Eternal—into whom
Beauty and Love and Truth and all
That we strive after through this gloom,
Which our search lightens, fade and fall.

Be near—be with us—so we can
Tread in the path Thy footsteps trod,
Oh! Godhead stooping down to man—
Oh! Manhood reaching up to God.

Guide us—we know Thou art not gone,
But dwellest in us could we see.
Oh help us! raise us, lead us on,
Our eyes for ever fixed on Thee.