Out of the Silence :: :: University of Virginia Library

Out of the Silence

By James Rhoades

Rhoades, James (1841-1923)

[dedication]

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1 Cor. iii. 16.

Is this thing true, the preacher saith,
Or but a dreamer's dream?
Thrills in thy very midst the Breath
That bade the star-fires stream,

Framed all the Universe divine,
And slowly cell by cell
Built up thy body for a shrine,
Wherein Himself might dwell?

Then cares and fears be phantoms vain—
Ills of illusion bred:
O hungry soul, insatiate brain,
Ope inward and be fed!

O heart, with age-long error rife,
Thou art no soil for sin,
Wherethrough the eternal source of life
Wells ever from within!

Drink, and thy need shall be sufficed,
The drought of death will fly:
Who thereof drinketh, said the Christ,
Shall never thirst or die.

No mortal being gave thee birth;
Shake off the fleshly dream,
Nor, housed albeit in walls of earth,
Against thyself blaspheme.

The heaven is here for which we wait,
The life eternal now!—
Who is this lord of time and fate?
Thou, brother, sister, thou.

The power, the kingdom, is thine own:
Arise, O royal heart!
Press inward past the doubting-zone,
And prove the God thou art!

OUT OF THE SILENCE

I

Lo! in the vigils of the night, ere sped
The first bright arrows from the Orient shed,
The heart of Silence trembled into sound,
And out of Vastness came a Voice, which said:

II

I AM alone: thou only art in Me:
I am the stream of Life that flows through thee:
I comprehend all substance, fill all space:
I am pure Being, by whom all things be.

III

I am thy Dawn, from darkness to release:
I am the Deep, wherein thy sorrows cease:
Be still! be still! and know that I am God:
Acquaint thyself with Me, and be at peace!

IV

I am the Silence that is more than sound:
If therewithin thou lose thee, thou art found:
The stormless, shoreless Ocean, which is I—
Thou canst not breathe, but in its bosom drowned.

V

I am all Love: there is naught else but I:
I am all Power: the rest is phantasy:
Evil, and anguish, sorrow, death, and hell—
These are the fear-flung shadows of a lie.

VI

Arraign not Mine Omnipotence, to say
That aught beside in earth or heaven hath sway!
The powers of darkness are not: that which is
Abideth: these but vaunt them for a day.

VII

Know thou thyself: as thou hast learned of Me,
I made thee three in one, and one in three—
Spirit and Mind and Form, immortal Whole,
Divine and undivided Trinity.

VIII

Seek not to break the triple bond assigned:
Mind sees by Spirit: Body moves by Mind:
Divorced from Spirit, both way-wildered fall—
Leader and led, the blindfold and the blind.

IX

Look not without thee: thou hast that within,
Makes whole thy sickness, impotent thy sin:
Survey thy forces, rally to thyself:
That which thou would'st not hath no power to win.

X

I, God, enfold thee like an atmosphere:
Thou to thyself wert never yet more near:
Think not to shun Me: whither would'st thou fly?
Nor go not hence to seek Me: I am here.

XI

Yea, I am Spirit: in thy depths I dwell:
Art conscious of My presence, all is well:
Cleave but to that—thyself art thine own heaven:
A heaven deemed empty were more drear than hell.

XII

Into each heart the jet of life I fling:
Bathe thou thy thought in that perennial spring!
Sinless thou art and scathless, so thou catch
The music of its inward murmuring.

XIII

Hush thee, if thou wouldst hear it! Still and small
My voice to thee makes answer ere thou call.
Ah! to the hidden Word thou giv'st no heed,
And clamorous echo deemest all in all.

XIV

The thriftless joys that are thy heart's desire—
Base ore, unsearched of the refiner's fire—
Can these pass current with the high-born soul
That unto heavenly riches doth aspire?

XV

Thou, for whom pleasure weaves her earthy spell,
If in some paradise of sense thou dwell,
Thou dwell'st but in the purlieus of thy life,
Far from the centre and the citadel.

XVI

There lies thy treasure: there shalt thou see clear
What to thy shaping was so real and dear
But as the shadows and the shows of things
Viewless, inaudible, to eye and ear.

XVII

Thine ecstasies of feeling, sound, or sight—
Raptures that hover round thee winged for flight—
Fly with them! follow! and they shall quench their speed,
Within the eternal forests of delight.

XVIII

To weave thee garlands that the soul may wear,
Seek not for blossoms born of light and air:
The flowers, that of pure thought engendered spring,
Grow not on earth, nor may be gathered there.

XIX

Yet spurn not thou the visible: for Mine
Is all this Universe, and all divine:
Rather bethink thee that which thou behold'st,
Though not the Substance, is nathless the Sign.

XX

The boon earth's increase, how the seasons shift,
Or the suns glad thee with their lapse and lift—
These things thou notest, but with heart afar,
Forgetful of the Giver in the gift.

XXI

What wouldst thou say, wert thou but Spirit-wise!
What wings were added to thine ecstasies,
Couldst thou but hear the harping of the stars,
And read My message on the morning-skies!

XXII

Yon palpitating ray, thou call'st a rose—
Thou seest the light that in its bosom glows:
But that which thrills behind it, he alone,
Who knows to commune with its Maker, knows.

XXIII

Prayer opes the sluice of heaven with gentle sleight,
Lest faith, too suddenly transformed to sight—
Joy heaped on joy, since all I have is thine—
Whelm thee with inundation of delight.

XXIV

Yet whatso' lies about thee, or above,
Thou lack'st but faith to read the heart hereof.
Come now, and let us reason, saith the Lord:
Hast thou of old misdoubted of My love?

XXV

What billoweth else behind thee and before?
What else thine element? Do ships ashore
Fear launching for the scantness of the sea?
Put forth! put forth! and thou shalt doubt no more.

XXVI

Nay, though thou make thy pleasure to transgress,
Thinking to flout Me in thy wilfulness—
Tilt at My laws, and curse whom thou shouldst bless—
I am all Love: I cannot love thee less.

XXVII

Or hast thou judged amiss the Eternal Mind,
Deemed Truth inconstant, and Foreknowledge blind,
Made that which is not lord of that which is—
Fear not, nor falter: seek, and thou shalt find.

XXVIII

Thy times are in My hand, who say to thee
The past is nothing; let the future be:
Thou, whom I fashioned for my heart's desire,
Art not of time, but of Eternity.

XXIX

O my belovèd, heir to Mine estate!
Come to Me swiftly, though the hour be late!
Those My five envoys, whom I sent to seek,
Have lured thee from Me, and alone I wait.

XXX

I wait to see thy feet with wisdom shod,
Disease and error banished at thy nod:
Sinless, self-dominant, adult, divine,
I wait to see thee walk the earth, a God.

XXXI

What could I more for thee than I have done—
Shown thee thy wisdom, warned thee what to shun?
Had I constrained thee whither thou shouldst go,
What pleasure to be loved by such an one?

XXXII

Therefore I made thee what thou art—no toy
Like as men fashion for an infant's joy,
Wound into motion, played with, thrown aside;
But of pure Being, whole without alloy,

XXXIII

Of Mine own Substance, indestructible.
Eye cannot see, ear hear, nor tongue may tell,
What power, what plenitude of peace, were thine,
Content at oneness with thyself to dwell.

XXXIV

But when at last I heard My people cry:
“Arise, O Day-Star, lest we droop and die!”
I said: “No longer will I veil My face,
And write upon the darkness ‘It is I.’”

XXXV

I came to men in likeness of a man,
Taught them what Manhood merged in Godhood can:
Yet these believed not when I bade them live,
And cowered within their self-appointed span.

XXXVI

But enter thou thy closet, shut thy door,
And seek the silence of the golden Floor!
The word that I shall whisper thee will bring
Health to the healthless, riches to the poor.

XXXVII

Only be still, and win from earth away,
Then hearken what the mystic voices say!
The fount of Truth shall o'er his bason brim,
And flood thy fields of being day by day—

XXXVIII

Shall woo to life with fertilising power
The parchèd corn-ear, or the drooping flower,
And spread thee green oases in the waste,
Till the bare desert burst into a bower.

XXXIX

“Who shall deliver me?” thou criest, “for I
Faint 'neath this burden of mortality,
O wretched that I am!” If thou indeed
Wert in, or of, the body, thou shouldst die:

XL

But thou art Spirit, wholly made of Me,
Who make the body hour by hour to be:
Such as the Father is, such is the son:
Assume thine incorruptibility!

XLI

I gave thee of Mine own creative power
With winged imagination for thy dower:
That which thou wilt thou canst: no seed of thought
E'er sank into thy soul, but sprang to flower,

XLII

And fruited, or for blessing or for ban:
Yet, when thou com'st the harvest-field to scan,
“Some enemy,” thou say'st, “hath planted tares!”
I tell thee nay: thou art thyself the man.

XLIII

Hatred, hypocrisy, and pride, and ire,
And every fear, and every false desire,
Breeds venom in the heart, which drives it forth
To flood the veins with devastating fire.

XLIV

That thou believest is. Have faith, 'tis said,
And lo! the answer to thy prayer is sped:
Think life, thou liv'st; think death, and thou shalt die:
Choose! thine election is accomplishèd.

XLV

Body is Mind made visible, and grows
By the pure fountain which within thee flows
Tending to life; or, fed on outward shows,
Feedeth on nothing, and to nothing goes.

XLVI

How should the body so be sound and whole?
Can stagnant ooze reflect the o'er-arching pole?
No, nor with scum of error overlaid
Will the soul's mirror flash thee back the soul.

XLVII

Thine aspiration turned to appetite,
Thy love to lust, as blossom yields to blight,
With leaden luxury thou bind'st thy neck:—
My yoke is easy, and My burden light!

XLVIII

If thou by power electric stem the sea,
And, or of ignorance or apathy,
Let sleep the hidden force till motion fail,
Who blames the craftsman? yet thou blamest Me,

XLIX

What time, like fire beneath the terrene crust,
Thine own essential flame asunder thrust
Lacks use within thee, till amazed thou find
Hope's deep foundation crumbling into dust,

L

And all thy vital powers to faint and fail.
Mind fed by Spirit doth for life avail:
Pure thoughts alone the body's health can build:
Purge that within thee—naught shall outward ail.

LI

Thy faith in evil evil's like allures:
Believing taints thee, disbelieving cures:
I said: “Be perfect”: spake I then in vain?
Perfect I planned thee, and My work endures.

LII

What profit then of Destiny to prate?
She is thy friend if thou co-operate:
Seek in the silence that diviner Self:
To know thy greatness is to claim thy fate.

LIII

Say, thou who deem'st thyself the child of sin,
How, God-begotten, wast thou born therein?
Lo! I thy Father, I thy Mother, am!
Wouldst claim the heritage, the birthright win,

LIV

Erase that record of the palimpsest
Within thee, by the scribe of time impressed:
And on the smoothèd surface write anew:
“I am All-Wisdom, Righteousness, and Rest.”

LV

'Twas writ: “The man that doth My sayings keep
Shall taste death never”: yet in death ye sleep,
Nor spirit since hath passed the bound of time,
Save through that bitter and dividing deep.

LVI

Elijah, Moses, Enoch—what were they
More than all others to win deathless way
Into the heavenly house not made with hands,
Whereof the door stands open night and day,

LVII

But that to walk with God they did aspire—
But that, enkindled with divine desire,
Still on the secret altar of their soul
They fanned with faith a never-dying fire?

LVIII

“Do this, and thou shalt baulk the billowy grave!”
Thou doest it not, and call'st on man to save:
Nay, wouldst thou save thee, quit yon treacherous bark,
And walk to Me upon the midnight wave!

LIX

O House of Israel, wherefore will ye die?
Shall He, whose dwelling is Eternity,
In death find pleasure—pleasure in a lie?
Turn therefore, live ye! saith the Lord most high.

LX

Behold! I stand within my harvest field!
Arise, O reapers, the bright sickle wield!
A whole world hangs upon your golden hope,
Faint to be fed, and hungry to be healed.

LXI

Open thine eyes, O seer, and thou shalt scan
A mightier birth-dawn than of mythic Pan!
Too long hath darkness travailed of to-day,
Veiling the advent of regenerate Man.

LXII

O human heart, that like a ruined shrine
Hast long foregone the worship that was thine,
E'en now thou hailest with new kindling hope
Omnipotent within thee the Divine—

LXIII

E'en now begin'st to give thy Godhead way,
And over every doubt that said thee nay,
Made one at last with that unerring Mind
Which swayed thee unaware, hold conscious sway.

LXIV

What erst was hurtful, with thy being blent,
Will at a flash from thy swift herald sent—
That lightning courier of the enthronèd soul—
Turn to innocuous or beneficent:

LXV

Till now, re-constellated one in three,
Shall planet-like revolve encircling thee,
To thy bright influence tributary made,
All powers that alien to thine orbit be.

LXVI

Thus having learned that Love is Law confessed,
And seeing through all My Universe expressed—
My seamless garment broidered o'er with worlds—
The unresting Order, which alone is rest,

LXVII

Thou shalt harmonious move, and at thy nod
My children of the air, the sea, the sod,
Finding thee merciful, shall milder grow,
Learn of thy ways, and look to thee as God.

LXVIII

That, which thou art, thou dreamest not—so vast
That lo! time present, time to be, time past,
Are but the sepals of thine opening soul,
Whose flower shall fill the Universe at last.

LXIX

Thou ponderest of the moon, the stars, the sun,
Whence the winds gather, how the waters run,
But all too lightly deemest of thyself,
Which art a myriad miracles in one.

LXX

Say who thine outward elements combined,
Bade the quick life-blood through its mazes wind,
Filled thee with breath for motion and delight,
Or wove the matchless wonder of thy mind—

LXXI

Enableth foot and finger, ear and eye,
Arrays thy form in mould of majesty?—
Who but All-Love, All-Wisdom, and All-Power,
Thy Self and thy Creator—who but I?

LXXII

Claim then that Power, the which within thee lies
Waiting thy royal mandate to arise!
Woo then that Wisdom, for thine own she is—
Woo her and win, and know that thou art wise!

LXXIII

Fulfil thee with that Love! henceforth and here
The healing power shall in thy heart appear,
Slayer of envy, avarice, guile and pride,
Purger of lust, and banisher of fear—

LXXIV

Bringer of joy, long-suffering, gentleness,
Faith, goodness, meekness, temperance and, no less,
Of peace that passeth knowledge. Having Love,
That which I am thou dost thyself possess.

LXXV

I am thy Dawn, from darkness to release:
I am the Deep, wherein thy sorrows cease:
Be still! be still! and know that I am God!
Acquaint thyself with Me, and be at peace!