Classic Poem

'T IS the hour of even now,
And with meditative brow,
Seeking truths as yet unknown,
Bishop Hubert walks alone.

Fain would he, with earnest thought,
Nature's secret laws be taught;
Learn the destinies of man,
And creation's wonders scan.

And, further yet, from these would trace
Hidden mysteries of grace,
Dive into the deepest theme,
Solve redemption's glorious scheme.

Far he has not roam'd before,
On the solitary shore,
He has found a little child
By its seeming play beguiled.

In the drifted barren sand
It has scoop'd with baby hand
Small recess, in which might float
Sportive fairy's tiny boat.

From a hollow shell the while,
See, 'tis filling, with a smile,
Fool as shallow as may be
With the waters of the sea.

Hear the smiling bishop ask
" What can mean such infant task? "
Mark that infant's answer plain —
" 'Tis to hold yon mighty main. "

" Foolish infant, " Hubert cries,
" Open if thou canst, thine eyes:
Can a hollow scoop'd by thee
Hope to hold the boundless sea? "

Soon that child, on ocean's brim,
Opes its eyes and turns to him:
Well does Hubert read its look,
Glance of innocent rebuke:

While a voice is heard to say,
" If the pool, thus scoop'd in play,
Cannot hold the mighty sea,
What must thy researches be?

" Canst thou hope to make thine own
Secrets known to God alone?
Can thy faculty confined
Compass the Eternal Mind? "

Bishop Hubert turns away —
He has learnt enough to-day.