Yes! In my spirit doth thy spirit shine,
As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew.
Nought! Yet I live, and on hope's pinions fly
Eager toward thy presence; for in thee
I live and breathe and dwell; aspiring high,
Even to the throne of thy divinity.
I am, O God! and surely Thou must be!
Thou art directing, guiding all, thou art!
Direct my understanding, then, to thee;
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart:
Though but an atom midst immensity,
Still I am something, fashioned by thy hand!
I hold a middle rank twixt heaven and earth,
On the last verge of mortal being stand,
Close to the realm where angels have their birth,
Just on the boundaries of the spirit land!
The chain of being is complete in me;
In me is matter's last gradation lost,
And the next step is spirit-Deity!
I can command the lightning and am dust!
A monarch and a slave; a worm, a god!
Whence came I here? and how so marvellously
Constructed and conceived? Unknown! This clod
Lives surely through some higher energy;
For from itself alone it could not be!
Creator! yes, thy wisdom and thy word
Created me! Thou Source of life and good!
Thou Spirit of my Spirit, and my Lord!
Thy light, thy love, in their bright plenitude
Filled me with an immortal soul, to spring
Over the abyss of death, and bade it wear
The garments of eternal day, and wing
Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere,
Even to its source-to thee-its Author there.
O thoughts ineffable! O visions blest!
Though worthless our conceptions all of thee,
Yet shall thy shadowed image fill our breast,
And waft its homage to thy Deity.
God! thus alone my lonely thoughts can soar;
Thus seek thy presence, Being wise and good!
Midst thy vast works admire, obey, adore;
And when the tongue is eloquent no more,
The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude!
Truth, be more precious to me than the eyes
Of happy love; burn hotter in my throat
That passion, and possess me like my pride;
More sweet than freedom, more desired than joy,
More sacred than the pleasing of a friend.
O living will that shall endure
When all that seems shall suffer shock,
Rise in the spiritual rock,
Flow through our deeds and make them pure,
That we may lift from out the dust
A voice as unto him that hears,
A cry above the conquered years
To one that with us works, and trust
With faith that comes from self-control,
The truths that never can be proved
Until we close with all we loved,
And all we flow from, soul in soul.
PRAYERS FOR COMFORT IN PROSPECT OF DEATH
A PRAYER IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH
O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!
In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!
If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun-
As something loudly in my breast,
Remonstrates I have done—
Thou know'st that Thou hast formèd me
With passions wild and strong;
And list'ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.
Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside,
Do thou, All-Good-for such Thou art-
In shades of darkness hide.
Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,
But, Thou art good; and Goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.
PRAYER BEFORE EXECUTION
MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS
O Domine Deus! Speravi in te,
O care mi Jesu, nunc libera me!
In dura catena, in misera poena,
Desidero te!
Languendo, gemendo, et genuflectendo,
Adoro, imploro, ut liberes me!
(Translation by John Fawcett, 1782.)
O merciful Father, my hope is in thee!
O gracious Redeemer, deliver thou me!
My bondage bemoaning, with sorrowful groaning,
I long to be free;
Lamenting, relenting, and humbly repenting,
O Jesu, my Savior, I languish for thee!
Lord, not for light in darkness do we pray,
Not that the veil be lifted from our eyes,
Nor that the slow ascension of our day
Be otherwise.
Not for a clearer vision of the things
Whereof the fashioning shall make us great,
Not for remission of the peril and stings
Of time and fate.
Not for a fuller knowledge of the end
Whereto we travel, bruised yet unafraid,
Nor that the little healing that we lend
Shall be repaid.
Not these, O Lord. We would not break the bars
Thy wisdom sets about us; we shall climb
Unfetter'd to the secrets of the stars
We do not crave the high perception swift
When to refrain were well, and when fulfill,
Nor yet the understanding strong to sift
Not these, O Lord. For these Thou hast revealed,
We know the golden season when to reap
The heavy-fruited treasure of the field,
Not these. We know the hemlock from the rose,
The pure from stained, the noble from the base,
The tranquil light of holy truth that glows
We know the paths wherein our feet should press,
Across our hearts are written Thy decrees:
Yet now, O Lord, be merciful to bless
Grant us the will to fashion as we feel,
Grant us the strength to labor as we know,
Grant us the purpose, ribb'd and edg'd with steel,
To strike the blow.
Knowledge we ask not,-knowledge Thou hast lent,
But, Lord, the will,-there lies our bitter need,
Give us to build above the deep intent
What shall I do to be just?
What shall I do for the gain
Of the world-for its sadness?
Teach me, O Seers that I trust!
Chart me the difficult main
Leading me out of my sorrow and madness;
Preach me out of the purging of pain.
Shall I wrench from my finger the ring
To cast to the tramp at my door?
Shall I tear off each luminous thing
To drop in the palm of the poor?
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