Or else He gave it not, and then indeed
We know not if he is—by
whom our years
Are portioned, who the orphan moons doth lead,
And the unfathered
spheres.
We sit unowned upon our burial sod
And know not whence we come or whose we
be,
Comfortless mourners for the mount of God,
The rocks of Calvary:
Bereft of heaven, and of the long-loved page
Wrought us by some who thought with death
to cope.
Despairing comforters, from age to age
Sowing the seeds
of hope:
Gracious deceivers, who have lifted us
Out of the slough where passed our unknown
youth.
Beneficent liars, who have gifted us
With sacred love
of truth!
Farewell to them: yet pause ere thou unmoor
And set thine ark adrift on unknown seas;
How wert thou bettered so, or more secure
Thou, and thy
destinies?
And if thou searchest, and art made to fear
Facing of unread riddles dark and hard,
And mastering not their majesty austere,
Their meaning
locked and barred:
How would it make the weight and wonder less,
If, lifted from immortal shoulders down,
The worlds were cast on seas of emptiness
In realms without
a crown.
And (if there were no God) were left to rue
Dominion of the air and of the fire?
Then if there be a God, “Let God be true,
And every man
a liar.”
But as for me, I do not speak as one
That is exempt: I am with life at
feud:
My heart reproacheth me, as there were none
Of so small gratitude.
Wherewith shall I console thee, heart o’ mine.
And still thy yearning and resolve thy
doubt?
That which I know, and that which I divine,
Alas! have left
thee out.
I have aspired to know the might of God,
As if the story of His love was furled,
Nor sacred foot the grasses e’er had trod
Of this redeemed
world:—
Have sunk my thoughts as lead into the deep,
To grope for that abyss whence evil grew,
And spirits of ill, with eyes that cannot weep,
Hungry and desolate
flew;
As if their legions did not one day crowd
The death-pangs of the Conquering Good
to see!
As if a sacred head had never bowed
In death for man—for
me;
Nor ransomed back the souls beloved, the sons
Of men, from thraldom with the nether
kings
In that dark country where those evil ones
Trail their unhallowed
wings.
And didst Thou love the race that loved not Thee,
And didst Thou take to heaven a human
brow?
Dost plead with man’s voice by the marvellous
sea?
Art Thou his kinsman
now?
O God, O kinsman loved, but not enough!
O man, with eyes majestic after death,
Whose feet have toiled along our pathways rough,
Whose lips drawn human
breath!