 | The hours of the passion and other poems |  |
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A CANTICLE OF PENTECOST
How shall we speak the mysteries of Heaven,
O, Unnamed, Unimagined, Holiest,
The veil before Whose throne has not been riven,
Who only in the deeps mayst be confessed?
O, Unnamed, Unimagined, Holiest,
The veil before Whose throne has not been riven,
Who only in the deeps mayst be confessed?
Before all Worlds, in the Divine Abyss,
Primal Spiration ere the morning-star,
Where Time and Space no bounds may set to bliss,
Where the great Three in One for ever are.
Primal Spiration ere the morning-star,
Where Time and Space no bounds may set to bliss,
Where the great Three in One for ever are.
O Thou Who didst conceive the Word of God
Articulate, incarnate, animate;
He on this earth with form of manhood trod,
Thyself in flame alone incorporate.
Articulate, incarnate, animate;
He on this earth with form of manhood trod,
Thyself in flame alone incorporate.
Ear hath not heard Thee, eye hath not perceived:
Save through indwelling of invisible flame
By breath of God in mortal clay received,
We know Thee not, great Ghost without a name.
Save through indwelling of invisible flame
By breath of God in mortal clay received,
We know Thee not, great Ghost without a name.
The wings of the wind Thy path before Thee sweep,
With thrills occult spring lilies from the sod,
Thy ways are in the waters of the deep,
Thy footsteps are not known, O Ghost of God!
With thrills occult spring lilies from the sod,
Thy ways are in the waters of the deep,
Thy footsteps are not known, O Ghost of God!
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Yet all this thunderous, rushing universe
In each pulsation is alive with Thee;
The singing of the stars doth but rehearse
Thy works and wonders of infinity.
In each pulsation is alive with Thee;
The singing of the stars doth but rehearse
Thy works and wonders of infinity.
Thine is the quickening of the child unborn;
The flutter of the dim, unconscious life
Is Thine; and with the Mother travail-torn,
Thy enemy and ours maintains his strife.
The flutter of the dim, unconscious life
Is Thine; and with the Mother travail-torn,
Thy enemy and ours maintains his strife.
But chiefly, O Divine Inhabitant,
Delightest Thou, Thyself to us to bow;
Thyself Thou givest,—and so great the grant,
Being All in All, we know not it is Thou.
Delightest Thou, Thyself to us to bow;
Thyself Thou givest,—and so great the grant,
Being All in All, we know not it is Thou.
Spirit of Peace art Thou, for Thou art Life,
And Life is Peace,—eternal, changeless, one;
Death is division, change, and war;—the strife
Of force with force:—Thy reign hath not begun.
And Life is Peace,—eternal, changeless, one;
Death is division, change, and war;—the strife
Of force with force:—Thy reign hath not begun.
For God as Man not only needs must die,
In conflict with the awful powers of Hell,
But even Thou, O Pure Divinity,
Must with unutterable groans as well
In conflict with the awful powers of Hell,
But even Thou, O Pure Divinity,
Must with unutterable groans as well
Make intercession even now for us,
And wait with us redemption from our foes;
In pain Thy whole creation travaileth thus
Together, Thou with us, for our repose.
And wait with us redemption from our foes;
In pain Thy whole creation travaileth thus
Together, Thou with us, for our repose.
But still Death wars on Life, Death is not slain,
Still are we subject to the body of death:
O Spirit, O sweet Spirit, may Thy reign
Come quickly,—long, too long it tarrieth.
Still are we subject to the body of death:
O Spirit, O sweet Spirit, may Thy reign
Come quickly,—long, too long it tarrieth.
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Mortal flesh knows Thee not, and mortal soul,
Ravished one moment, shut from sense and earth,
As lightning sees;—then under death's control
Forgets again its heavenly home of birth.
Ravished one moment, shut from sense and earth,
As lightning sees;—then under death's control
Forgets again its heavenly home of birth.
The empire of the Spirit lost to them,
Exiles in Babylon, flesh-bound in their fall,
Dimly remembering their Jerusalem,
Their city of Peace, the Mother of us all.
Exiles in Babylon, flesh-bound in their fall,
Dimly remembering their Jerusalem,
Their city of Peace, the Mother of us all.
As babes unconscious of the Mother's face,
And only conscious of the Mother's breast,
We drink from Thee the rivers of Thy grace,
With eyes unopened yet, nor dream the rest.
And only conscious of the Mother's breast,
We drink from Thee the rivers of Thy grace,
With eyes unopened yet, nor dream the rest.
O Name still hallowed in unspokenness,
Secret as is Man's soul the innermost,
In the Sanctuary of our unconsciousness
Thee we adore and bless, O Holy Ghost!
Secret as is Man's soul the innermost,
In the Sanctuary of our unconsciousness
Thee we adore and bless, O Holy Ghost!
We, human, need a God's Humanity
To love, to cling to, to compassionate;
We kiss Thy feet with tears, we look on Thee,
Lover and Lord, Who shared our own estate.
To love, to cling to, to compassionate;
We kiss Thy feet with tears, we look on Thee,
Lover and Lord, Who shared our own estate.
But Thou, Creator Spirit manifold,
Our narrow natures, our emotions small
Thee comprehend not, nor can converse hold
With Thee, nor love Thee passionately at all.
Our narrow natures, our emotions small
Thee comprehend not, nor can converse hold
With Thee, nor love Thee passionately at all.
The image of Divinity express
Being the Son;—but no imaginings
Pierce Thy ineffable veil of blessedness,
The Light that is not of created things.
Being the Son;—but no imaginings
Pierce Thy ineffable veil of blessedness,
The Light that is not of created things.
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O Inspiration of all sanctity,
Fire dropt from heights no Seraphim have trod,
Bond of the Ever-blessed Trinity,
The uncreated Charity of God!
Fire dropt from heights no Seraphim have trod,
Bond of the Ever-blessed Trinity,
The uncreated Charity of God!
Thy Name in one most solemn hour was heard,
The sacred, sorrowful, last Passover;
I will not leave you orphans, was His word,
I will send down to you the Comforter.
The sacred, sorrowful, last Passover;
I will not leave you orphans, was His word,
I will send down to you the Comforter.
Seen but once only, and by one alone,
As the descending Dove that hovered o'er,
When the heart of Heaven was opened, and made known
Thy soft-winged Tenderness, brooding evermore.
As the descending Dove that hovered o'er,
When the heart of Heaven was opened, and made known
Thy soft-winged Tenderness, brooding evermore.
O Dove, that bearing still the olive leaf,
Returnest ever to Thy ark below,
Asking but harbourage,—what can be our grief
Possessing Thee, but lest we let Thee go?
Returnest ever to Thy ark below,
Asking but harbourage,—what can be our grief
Possessing Thee, but lest we let Thee go?
Thou who art all unmingled clemency,
We ask not Thy forgiveness from above;
No Miserere wails aloud to Thee,
Who art Love itself, and Loveliness of Love.
We ask not Thy forgiveness from above;
No Miserere wails aloud to Thee,
Who art Love itself, and Loveliness of Love.
Thee we can wound, can grieve, celestial Dove;
What hath the Dove wherewith to wound again?
We turn to grief, not wrath, Thy fostering love,
Driving Thee out, and comfortless remain.
What hath the Dove wherewith to wound again?
We turn to grief, not wrath, Thy fostering love,
Driving Thee out, and comfortless remain.
Within us, and above us, and around,
We cannot from Thy Omnipresence flee,
O Ghost Who goest with us without sound
Or form, the Holy Self of Charity.
We cannot from Thy Omnipresence flee,
O Ghost Who goest with us without sound
Or form, the Holy Self of Charity.
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Mystery of mysteries, for nought can sever
Life interfused, yet all impalpable:
Joy of all joys, for Thou art ours for ever,
Spirit with spirit, indivisible.
Life interfused, yet all impalpable:
Joy of all joys, for Thou art ours for ever,
Spirit with spirit, indivisible.
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