I.
A death-like dew was falling On the herbs and the gra.s.sy ground; The stars to their bournes prest forward, Night cloaked the hills around.
He thought of a night long past,-- Of the ladder that reached to heaven, The Face that shone above it, The pillar, his pillows of even.
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II.
From out of the sleeve of the darkness Was thrust an arm of strength,-- Long he wrestled for mastery, But begged for blessing at length.
White fear fell on him at dawn, As the Nameless spake with him then; "Prevailer and Prince," called He him, "A power with G.o.d and with men."
And, alone, the lame wrestler mused: "The Face of G.o.d is this place!
Ah me--and my life is preserved, Yet G.o.d have I seen face to face!"
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III.
Life"s darkness is background for G.o.d, For unsleeping Love"s high command, And the shadowy heap of each life Is revealed at the touch of His hand.
And the arm of Love doth wrestle All night by the fords we cross, To shrivel our sinews of self And give His blessing for loss.
Night shows the houses of heaven, O pilgrim for life"s journey shod!
And from out the sleeve of darkness Is thrust the arm of G.o.d.
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REPOSE.
A mossy footfall in this wood A peal of thunder were, Or autumn tempest-shriek, compared With the unwhispered stir Of ma.s.sy fluids lift in air, To build these leafy pillars fair.
Lavished at wordless wish or mute Command, the chemic wealth Upsprings to meet the builders" hands, All hushed as dusky stealth.
Noiseless as love, as silent prayer Mysterious, the builders are.
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Ah, sure, these silences are works Of G.o.d"s sabbatic rest, A music perfect as the calm Of wave"s unbroken crest!
These woven leaves that stilly nod, These violets, ope their eyes on G.o.d.
The deep serene that worketh here Works, too, "mid human tears; A thousand years as one day is, One day a thousand years.
Fell death still thunders at his task, But death the peace of G.o.d doth mask.