A Book of Strife in the Form of The Diary of an Old Soul Part 8

23.

Ever above my coldness and my doubt Rises up something, reaching forth a hand: This thing I know, but cannot understand.

Is it the G.o.d in me that rises out Beyond my self, trailing it up with him, Towards the spirit-home, the freedom-land, Beyond my conscious ken, my near horizon's brim?

24.

O G.o.d of man, my heart would wors.h.i.+p all My fellow men, the flashes from thy fire; Them in good sooth my lofty kindred call, Born of the same one heart, the perfect sire; Love of my kind alone can set me free; Help me to welcome all that come to me, Not close my doors and dream solitude liberty!

25.

A loving word may set some door ajar Where seemed no door, and that may enter in Which lay at the heart of that same loving word.

In my still chamber dwell thou always, Lord; Thy presence there will carriage true afford; True words will flow, pure of design to win; And to my men my door shall have no bar.

26.

My prayers, my G.o.d, flow from what I am not; I think thy answers make me what I am.

Like weary waves thought follows upon thought, But the still depth beneath is all thine own, And there thou mov'st in paths to us unknown.

Out of strange strife thy peace is strangely wrought; If the lion in us pray--thou answerest the lamb.

27.

So bound in selfishness am I, so chained, I know it must be glorious to be free But know not what, full-fraught, the word doth mean.

By loss on loss I have severely gained Wisdom enough my slavery to see; But liberty, pure, absolute, serene, No freest-visioned slave has ever seen.

28.

For, that great freedom how should such as I Be able to imagine in such a self?

Less hopeless far the miser man might try To image the delight of friend-shared pelf.

Freedom is to be like thee, face and heart; To know it, Lord, I must be as thou art, I cannot breed the imagination high.

29.

Yet hints come to me from the realm unknown; Airs drift across the twilight border land, Odoured with life; and as from some far strand Sea-murmured, whispers to my heart are blown That fill me with a joy I cannot speak, Yea, from whose shadow words drop faint and weak: Thee, G.o.d, I shadow in that region grand.

30.

O Christ, who didst appear in Judah land, Thence by the cross go back to G.o.d's right hand, Plain history, and things our sense beyond, In thee together come and correspond: How rulest thou from the undiscovered bourne The world-wise world that laughs thee still to scorn?

Please, Lord, let thy disciple understand.

31.

'Tis heart on heart thou rulest. Thou art the same At G.o.d's right hand as here exposed to shame, And therefore workest now as thou didst then-- Feeding the faint divine in humble men.

Through all thy realms from thee goes out heart-power, Working the holy, satisfying hour, When all shall love, and all be loved again.

JUNE.

1.

FROM thine, as then, the healing virtue goes Into our hearts--that is the Father's plan.

From heart to heart it sinks, it steals, it flows, From these that know thee still infecting those.

Here is my heart--from thine, Lord, fill it up, That I may offer it as the holy cup Of thy communion to my every man.

2.

When thou dost send out whirlwinds on thy seas, Alternatest thy lightning with its roar, Thy night with morning, and thy clouds with stars Or, mightier force unseen in midst of these, Orderest the life in every airy pore; Guidest men's efforts, rul'st mishaps and jars,-- 'Tis only for their hearts, and nothing more.

3.

This, this alone thy father careth for-- That men should live hearted throughout with thee-- Because the simple, only life thou art, Of the very truth of living, the pure heart.

For this, deep waters whelm the fruitful lea, Wars ravage, famine wastes, plague withers, nor Shall cease till men have chosen the better part.

4.

But, like a virtuous medicine, self-diffused Through all men's hearts thy love shall sink and float; Till every feeling false, and thought unwise, Selfish, and seeking, shall, sternly disused, Wither, and die, and shrivel up to nought; And Christ, whom they did hang 'twixt earth and skies, Up in the inner world of men arise.

5.

Make me a fellow worker with thee, Christ; Nought else befits a G.o.d-born energy; Of all that's lovely, only lives the highest, Lifing the rest that it shall never die.

Up I would be to help thee--for thou liest Not, linen-swathed in Joseph's garden-tomb, But walkest crowned, creation's heart and bloom.

6.

My G.o.d, when I would lift my heart to thee, Imagination instantly doth set A cloudy something, thin, and vast, and vague, To stand for him who is the fact of me; Then up the Will, and doth her weakness plague To pay the heart her duty and her debt, Showing the face that hearkeneth to the plea.

7.

And hence it comes that thou at times dost seem To fade into an image of my mind; I, dreamer, cover, hide thee up with dream,-- Thee, primal, individual ent.i.ty!-- No likeness will I seek to frame or find, But cry to that which thou dost choose to be, To that which is my sight, therefore I cannot see.

8.

No likeness? Lo, the Christ! Oh, large Enough!

I see, yet fathom not the face he wore.

He is--and out of him there is no stuff To make a man. Let fail me every spark Of blissful vision on my pathway rough, I have seen much, and trust the perfect more, While to his feet my faith crosses the wayless dark.

9.

Faith is the human shadow of thy might.

Thou art the one self-perfect life, and we Who trust thy life, therein join on to thee, Taking our part in self-creating light.

To trust is to step forward out of the night-- To be--to share in the outgoing Will That lives and is, because outgoing still.

10.

I am lost before thee, Father! yet I will Claim of thee my birthright ineffable.

Thou lay'st it on me, son, to claim thee, sire; To that which thou hast made me, I aspire; To thee, the sun, upflames thy kindled fire.