Classic Poem

The life of light, the light which dwells in life,
With perfect, free and undivided love,
We seers have loved for ever; have abode
In any conscious gloom of heart or mind
Unwillingly; have ever into day,
With strife and clamour of aspiration, sprung;
And when we found true sunlight we were blest.
We have not scorn'd the simpler gifts of faith,
Yet sought in knowledge, with the soul's clear sight,
That lucid world, its scatter'd rays of grace
Receiving and reflecting; but when those
Were granted not, we held to faith and hope;
And any beam diffused along the dark,
Though less than nothing to the world at large,
Our hearts collected, cherish'd, dwelt therein,
And bless'd the Giver; counting all things well;
As grateful for His silence as His speech;
Keeping His silence with the same brave heart
Which, bidden, would have trumpeted His word;
For ever waiting on that word by Him
Withheld for ever. … To the end of all
Approaching now, we fail but do not faint:
He has not seal'd our mission or granted us
The consolation of His messengers.
We have noTheard His voice; we have not work'd
His miracles, nor stood before His world
And testified that we indeed were sent;
But we have loved the light, and here and now,
Before the antechamber of the tomb—
Yea, underneath the quiet wings of death—
Faith helps us still, amidst true calm of soul,
To say: The quest is broken for a while,
But ended not; and, whether life or death,
We still desire the vision and the truth.
Bid therefore, Lord, Thy servants pass in peace,
Beholding Thy salvation with their eyes!