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Thread of Life (3)
#1
Thread of Life 1

The irresponsive silence of the land,
The irresponsive sounding of the sea,
Speak both one message of one sense to me: -
Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand

Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band
Of inner solitude; we bind not thee;
But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free?
What heart shall touch thy heart? What hand thy hand?

And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek,
And sometimes I remember days of old
When fellowship seemed not so far to seek

And all the world and I seemed much less cold,
And at the rainbow’s foot lay surely gold,
And hope felt strong and life itself not weak.


Thread of Life 2

Thus am I mine own prison. Everything
Around me free and sunny and at ease:
Or if in shadow, in a shade of trees
Which the sun kisses, where the gay birds sing

And where all winds make various murmuring;
Where bees are found, with honey for the bees;
Where sounds are music, and where silences
Are music of an unlike fashioning.

Then gaze I at the merrymaking crew,
And smile a moment and a moment sigh
Thinking: why can I not rejoice with you?

But soon I put the foolish fancy by:
I am not what I have nor what I do;
But what I was I am, I am even I.


Thread of Life 3

Therefore myself is that one lonely thing
I hold to use or waste, to keep or give;
My sole possession every day I live,
And still mine own, despite Time’s winnowing,

Ever mine own, while moons and seasons bring
From crudeness ripeness mellow and sanitive;
Ever mine own, till Death shall ply his sieve;
And still mine own, when saints break grave and sing.

And this myself as king onto my King
I give to Him Who gave Himself for me;
Who gives Himself to me, and bids me sing

A sweet new song of His redeemed set free;
He bids me sing: O death, where is thy sting?
And sing: O grave, where is thy victory?
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