27.12.2010, 12:04
A WAKING THOUGHT.
No water-floods shall drown our Lord and King !
Nor shall those ancient organs of report,
His glorious Gospels, prove the tempest's sport ;
What makes me sure of what I boldly sing ?
Not my poor dreams ! tho', as the master wills,
They follow truth in darkness—'tis reveal'd
That no brief torrents, from the fruitless hills,
Shall make an ooze of our historic field.
For all mankind by Christ's own prowess won —
Not my poor dreams ! but all that lies between
That time and this—what is and what hath been-
The long array of all that hath been done
And suffer'd, since the Virgin bore her son —
The facts of ages, and the hopes of men !
I tax not all with this unmanly hate
Of truth, for purer spirits stand without —
Meek men of reverent purpose, watch and wait,
And gaze in sorrow from the land of doubt.
Yes—gentle souls there be, who hold apart,
And long in silence for the day of grace ;
For deep in many a brave, though bleeding, heart
There lurks a yearning for the Healer's face —
A yearning to be free from hint and guess.
To take the blessings Christ is fain to give :
To all who dare not with their conscience strive,
To all who burn for this most dear success,
Faith shall be born ! and, by her natural stress.
Push through these dark jihilosophies, and live !
No water-floods shall drown our Lord and King !
Nor shall those ancient organs of report,
His glorious Gospels, prove the tempest's sport ;
What makes me sure of what I boldly sing ?
Not my poor dreams ! tho', as the master wills,
They follow truth in darkness—'tis reveal'd
That no brief torrents, from the fruitless hills,
Shall make an ooze of our historic field.
For all mankind by Christ's own prowess won —
Not my poor dreams ! but all that lies between
That time and this—what is and what hath been-
The long array of all that hath been done
And suffer'd, since the Virgin bore her son —
The facts of ages, and the hopes of men !
I tax not all with this unmanly hate
Of truth, for purer spirits stand without —
Meek men of reverent purpose, watch and wait,
And gaze in sorrow from the land of doubt.
Yes—gentle souls there be, who hold apart,
And long in silence for the day of grace ;
For deep in many a brave, though bleeding, heart
There lurks a yearning for the Healer's face —
A yearning to be free from hint and guess.
To take the blessings Christ is fain to give :
To all who dare not with their conscience strive,
To all who burn for this most dear success,
Faith shall be born ! and, by her natural stress.
Push through these dark jihilosophies, and live !