Allah
The mysteries of life and death
I neither fear nor understand.
Why fear the Power who gave me breath,
And comes with Beauty in His Hand?
Who binds the stars like pearly braid
Around His brow and on His breast.
Why should my spirit be afraid?
His Will be done! He knoweth best.
How can I be destroyed or slain
By lightning, or by storm, or sea?
These are but figments of my brain
Which somehow into touch with me
Bring something vaster — shadows cast
By great realities behind,
That will outlive, that will outlast,
Their apparitions in the mind.
How can I understand His Ways,
Or why His Hand should make or mar?
My heart can only sing His praise
Who from a fire-mist made a star.
And from the star the planet drew
Where the strange dance of life begun,
And out of fire, and air, and dew
Were born the seeds that grew to Man.
Can I by searching find out God,
Or understand His Simplest Thought?
Who know not how within the sod
The seed into a rose is wrought?
Nor how within the womb the heart
Is given tune and made to beat,
How can I understand such art
Where matter and where spirit meet?
Even myself must be to me
A something evermore unknown —
A miracle, a mystery,
A seed out of the darkness blown,
And by strange process made to bud,
So that there gradually unroll
In transitory flesh and blood
Infinities of deathless soul.
Does the babe fear the silent womb,
The seed the darkness of the sod?
And shall I fear the light and gloom,
The love and mystery of God?
Life is too high and large to hold
A thing so puny as a doubt:
By one bright planet's spears of gold
A million fears are put to rout.
I may be only magic dust
Upon a wild tornado whirled;
I see one lily, and I trust
The love and beauty of the world.
I have no fear, though I am blind;
I have no doubt, though knowing nought;
I feel a Spirit lives behind
By whose vast love all life is wrought.
I neither fear nor understand.
Why fear the Power who gave me breath,
And comes with Beauty in His Hand?
Who binds the stars like pearly braid
Around His brow and on His breast.
Why should my spirit be afraid?
His Will be done! He knoweth best.
How can I be destroyed or slain
By lightning, or by storm, or sea?
These are but figments of my brain
Which somehow into touch with me
Bring something vaster — shadows cast
By great realities behind,
That will outlive, that will outlast,
Their apparitions in the mind.
How can I understand His Ways,
Or why His Hand should make or mar?
My heart can only sing His praise
Who from a fire-mist made a star.
And from the star the planet drew
Where the strange dance of life begun,
And out of fire, and air, and dew
Were born the seeds that grew to Man.
Can I by searching find out God,
Or understand His Simplest Thought?
Who know not how within the sod
The seed into a rose is wrought?
Nor how within the womb the heart
Is given tune and made to beat,
How can I understand such art
Where matter and where spirit meet?
Even myself must be to me
A something evermore unknown —
A miracle, a mystery,
A seed out of the darkness blown,
And by strange process made to bud,
So that there gradually unroll
In transitory flesh and blood
Infinities of deathless soul.
Does the babe fear the silent womb,
The seed the darkness of the sod?
And shall I fear the light and gloom,
The love and mystery of God?
Life is too high and large to hold
A thing so puny as a doubt:
By one bright planet's spears of gold
A million fears are put to rout.
I may be only magic dust
Upon a wild tornado whirled;
I see one lily, and I trust
The love and beauty of the world.
I have no fear, though I am blind;
I have no doubt, though knowing nought;
I feel a Spirit lives behind
By whose vast love all life is wrought.
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Fine poem. Macfie was a
Fine poem. Macfie was a critic of Darwinism and he even developed his own non-Darwinian evolution theory which was a form of neovitalism, as displayed in manny of his poems.
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