Poems of Hope - cotd.

[Guest guest]

Namaste,

 

 

John Greanleaf WHITTIER [1807-1892 - American Quaker Poet]:

 

REVELATION

 

 

Still, as of old, in Beavor's Vale,

O man of God! our hope and faith

The Elements and Stars assail,

And the awed spirit holds its breath,

Blown over by a wind of death.

 

Takes Nature thought for such as we,

What place her human atom fills,

The weed-drift of her careless sea,

The mist on her unheeding hills?

What recks she of our helpless wills?

 

Strange god of Force, with fear, not love,

Its trembling worshipper! Can prayer

Reach the shut ear of Fate, or move

Unpitying Energy to spare?

What doth the cosmic Vastness care?

 

In vain to this dread Unconcern

For the All-Father's love we look;

In vain, in quest for it, we turn,

The storied leaves of Nature's book

The prints her rocky tablets took.

 

I pray for faith, I long to trust;

I listen with my heart, and hear

A Voice without a sound: "Be just,

Be true, Be merciful, revere

The Word within thee: God is near!

 

"A light to sky and earth unknown

pales all their lights: a mightier force

than theirs the powers of Nature own,

And, to its goal as at its source,

His Spirit moves the Universe.

 

"Believe and trust. Through stars and suns,

Through life and death, through soul and sense,

His wise, paternal purpose runs;

The darkness of his providence

Is star-lit with benign intents."

 

O joy supreme! I know the Voice,

Like none beside on earth or sea;

Yea, more, O soul of mine, rejoice,

By all that he requires of me,

I know what god himself must be.

 

No picture to my aid I call,

I shape no image in my prayer;

I only know in Him is all

Of life, light, beauty, everywhere,

Eternal Goodness here and there!

 

I know He is, and what He is,

Whose one great purpose is the good

Of all. I rest my soul on his

Immortal Love and Fatherhood;

And trust Him, as his children should.

 

I fear no more. The clouded face

Of Nature smiles; through all her things

Of time and space and sense I trace

The moving of the Spirit's wings,

And hear the song of hope she sings.

 

 

Regards,

 

Sunder