The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
 |
|
|
|
THE IMMORTAL AND THE MORTAL
|
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
165
THE IMMORTAL AND THE MORTAL
Oh where the immortal and the mortal meet
In union than of wind and wave more sweet,
Meet me, O God—
Where thou hast trod
I follow, along the blood-print of thy feet.
In union than of wind and wave more sweet,
Meet me, O God—
Where thou hast trod
I follow, along the blood-print of thy feet.
Oh, though the austere ensanguined road be hard
And all the blue skies shine through casemates barred,
I follow thee—
Show thou to me
Thy face, the speechless face divinely marred.
And all the blue skies shine through casemates barred,
I follow thee—
Show thou to me
Thy face, the speechless face divinely marred.
166
Lo! who will love and follow to the end,
Shall he not also to hell's depths descend?
Shall he not find
The whole world blind,
Searching among the lone stars for a friend?
Shall he not also to hell's depths descend?
Shall he not find
The whole world blind,
Searching among the lone stars for a friend?
Lo! who will follow love throughout the way,
From crimson morning flush till twilight grey?
Who fears not chains,
Anguish and pains,
If love wait at the ending of the day?
From crimson morning flush till twilight grey?
Who fears not chains,
Anguish and pains,
If love wait at the ending of the day?
If at the ending of the day life's bride
Be near our hearts in vision glorified:
If at the end
God's hand extend
That far triumphant boon for which we sighed.
Be near our hearts in vision glorified:
If at the end
God's hand extend
That far triumphant boon for which we sighed.
Oh, where the immortal to our mortal flows,
Flushing our grey clay heart to its own rose,
Spirit supreme
Upon me gleam;
Make me thine own; I reckon not the throes.
Flushing our grey clay heart to its own rose,
Spirit supreme
Upon me gleam;
Make me thine own; I reckon not the throes.
167
I would pour out my soul in one long sigh
Of speechless yearning towards thine home on high:
I would be pure,
Suffer, endure,
Pervade with ceaseless wings the unfathomed sky.
Of speechless yearning towards thine home on high:
I would be pure,
Suffer, endure,
Pervade with ceaseless wings the unfathomed sky.
Oh, at the point where God and man are one,
Meet me, thou God; flame on me like the sun;
I would be part
Of thine own heart,
That by my hands thy love-deeds may be done:
Meet me, thou God; flame on me like the sun;
I would be part
Of thine own heart,
That by my hands thy love-deeds may be done:
That by my hands thy love-truths may be shown
And far lands know me for thy very own;
That I may bring
The dead world spring:—
The flowers awake, Lord, at thy word alone.
And far lands know me for thy very own;
That I may bring
The dead world spring:—
The flowers awake, Lord, at thy word alone.
Oh, to the point where man and God unite,
Raise me, thou God; transfuse me with thy light;
Where I would go
Thou, God, dost know;
For thy sake I will face the starless night.
Raise me, thou God; transfuse me with thy light;
Where I would go
Thou, God, dost know;
For thy sake I will face the starless night.
168
The night is barren, black, devoid of bloom,
Scentless and waste, a wide appalling tomb;
Dark foes surround
The soul discrowned
And strange shapes lower and threaten through the gloom.
Scentless and waste, a wide appalling tomb;
Dark foes surround
The soul discrowned
And strange shapes lower and threaten through the gloom.
But where thou art with me thy mortal, one,
God, mine immortal, my death-conquering sun,
Meet me and show
What path to go
Till the last work of deathless love be done.
God, mine immortal, my death-conquering sun,
Meet me and show
What path to go
Till the last work of deathless love be done.
1880.
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |