Classic Poem

Hail , sacred Order of eternal Truth!
That deep within the soul,
In axiomatic majesty sublime,
One undivided whole, —

Up from the underdepth unsearchable
Of primal Being springs,
An inner world of thought, co-ordinate
With that of outward things!

Hail, Intuition pure! whose essences
The central core supply
Of conscience, language, science, certitude,
Art, beauty, harmony!

Great God! I thank Thy majesty supreme,
Whose all-creative grace
Not in the sentient faculties alone
Has laid my reason's base;

Not in abstractions thin by slow degrees
From grosser forms refin'd;
Not in tradition, nor the broad consent
Of conscious humankind; —

But in th' essential Presence of Thyself,
Within the soul's abyss;
Thyself, alike of her intelligence
The fount, as of her bliss;

Thyself, by nurture, meditation, grace,
Reflexively reveal'd;
Yet ever acting on the springs of thought,
E'en when from thought conceal'd!