University of Virginia Library

Anon faint accents, from the sloping lawn
Beneath the crag where he was kneeling, rose
Like supernatural echoes of his prayer:
—“A Name above all names—I call upon.—
Thou art—Thou knowest that I am:—Reveal
Thyself to me;—but, oh! that I may love Thee!
For if Thou art, Thou must be good:—Oh! hear,
And let me know Thou hearest!”—Memory fail'd
The child; for 'twas his grandchild, though he knew not,—
In the deep transport of his mind, he knew not
That voice, to him the sweetest of ten thousand,
And known the best because the best beloved.
Again it cried:—“Thou art—Thou must be good:—Oh! hear,
And let me know Thou hearest.”—Memory fail'd
The child; but feeling fail'd not: tears of light
Slid down his cheek; he too was on his knees,
Clasping his little hands upon his heart,
Unconscious why, yet doing what he saw
His grandsire do, and saying what he said.
For while he gather'd buds and flowers to twine
A garland for the old gray hairs, whose locks
Were lovelier in his sight than all the blooms
On which the bees and butterflies were feasting,
The Patriarch's agony of spirit caught
His eye, his ear, his heart; he dropp'd the flowers,
And, kneeling down among them, wept and pray'd
Like him, with whom he felt such strange emotions
As rapt his infant-soul to heavenly heights;
Though whence they sprang, and what they meant, he knew not:
But they were good, and that was all to him,
Who wonder'd why it was so sweet to weep;
Nor would he quit his humble attitude,
Nor cease repeating fragments of that lesson,
Thus learnt spontaneously from lips whose words
Were almost dearer to him than their kisses,
When on his lap the old man dandled him,
And told him simple stories of his mother.