Classic Poem

And this is sweet to think—
That through long years thy firm faith never failed:
Failed neither at death's dim brink,
Nor in those earlier days when doubt assailed.

I, later born in this
The saddest century since the news went round
That death was sceptreless and Christ was crowned,—
I, seeking hope, full often sought amiss.

Doubt smote, and smote me hard,
I, seeking God, full often found instead
Darkness, and thoughts ill-starred;
I sought Christ overlong amid the dead.

But thou, whom love inspired,
Didst seek thy Saviour without doubts or fears:
Thou soon didst gain the goal that I desired
And still desire, with tears.

While I was lingering at the ill-fated tomb
Where Jesus' corpse in desolation lay,
Thine eyes could pierce the gloom:
Heaven thou didst reach,—and by a nobler way.

As Jesus first appeared
To Mary, so when thy pure aid I sought
I found sweet faith within thy being inwrought;
Thought's stormy dark heaven cleared.

For God appeared to thee
Though not in waves or sun:
While I was seeking God within the sea
Or in the mountains, thou with God wast one.

The poet seeks—and finds
Somewhat divine within the wild waves' roar,
Within the music of the warring winds,
Upon the storm-swept shore.

But thou who carriedst God within thine heart
Hadst never need of Nature's kiss,
Though sweet to thee was this
And sweet the land of Art.

Thou wast so near to God that every day
When God's clear sunshine rose
No dark doubts fled away:
Love questions not, but knows.