19.

Thy beasts are sinless, and do live before thee; Thy child is sinful, and must run to thee.

Thy angels sin not and in peace adore thee; But I must will, or never more be free.

I from thy heart came, how can I ignore thee?-- Back to my home I hurry, haste, and flee; There I shall dwell, love-praising evermore thee.

20.

My holy self, thy pure ideal, lies Calm in thy bosom, which it cannot leave; My self unholy, no ideal, hies. .h.i.ther and thither, gathering store to grieve-- Not now, O Father! now it mounts, it flies, To join the true self in thy heart that waits, And, one with it, be one with all the heavenly mates.

21.

Trusting thee, Christ, I kneel, and clasp thy knee; Cast myself down, and kiss thy brother-feet-- One self thou and the Father's thought of thee!

Ideal son, thou hast left the perfect home, Ideal brother, to seek thy brothers come!

Thou know'st our angels all, G.o.d's children sweet, And of each two wilt make one holy child complete.

22.

To a slow end I draw these daily words, Nor think such words often to write again-- Rather, as light the power to me affords, Christ's new and old would to my friends unbind; Through words he spoke help to his thought behind; Unveil the heart with which he drew his men; Set forth his rule o'er devils, animals, corn, and wind.

23.

I do remember how one time I thought, "G.o.d must be lonely--oh, so lonely lone!

I will be very good to him--ah, nought Can reach the heart of his great loneliness!

My whole heart I will bring him, with a moan That I may not come nearer; I will lie p.r.o.ne Before the awful loveliness in loneliness' excess."

24.

A G.o.d must have a G.o.d for company.

And lo! thou hast the Son-G.o.d to thy friend.

Thou honour'st his obedience, he thy law.

Into thy secret life-will he doth see; Thou fold'st him round in live love perfectly-- One two, without beginning, without end; In love, life, strength, and truth, perfect without a flaw.

25.

Thou hast not made, or taught me, Lord, to care For times and seasons--but this one glad day Is the blue sapphire clasping all the lights That flash in the girdle of the year so fair-- When thou wast born a man, because alway Thou wast and art a man, through all the flights Of thought, and time, and thousandfold creation's play.

26.

We all are lonely, Maker--each a soul Shut in by itself, a sundered atom of thee.

No two yet loved themselves into a whole; Even when we weep together we are two.

Of two to make one, which yet two shall be, Is thy creation's problem, deep, and true, To which thou only hold'st the happy, hurting clue.

27.

No less than thou, O Father, do we need A G.o.d to friend each lonely one of us.

As touch not in the sack two grains of seed, Touch no two hearts in great worlds populous.

Outside the making G.o.d we cannot meet Him he has made our brother: homeward, thus, To find our kin we first must turn our wandering feet.

28.

It must be possible that the soul made Should absolutely meet the soul that makes; Then, in that bearing soul, meet every other There also born, each sister and each brother.

Lord, till I meet thee thus, life is delayed; I am not I until that morning breaks, Not I until my consciousness eternal wakes.

29.

Again I shall behold thee, daughter true; The hour will come when I shall hold thee fast In G.o.d's name, loving thee all through and through.

Somewhere in his grand thought this waits for us.

Then shall I see a smile not like thy last-- For that great thing which came when all was past, Was not a smile, but G.o.d's peace glorious.

30.

Twilight of the transfiguration-joy, Gleam-faced, pure-eyed, strong-willed, high-hearted boy!

Hardly thy life clear forth of heaven was sent, Ere it broke out into a smile, and went.

So swift thy growth, so true thy goalward bent, Thou, child and sage inextricably blent, Wilt one day teach thy father in some heavenly tent

31.

Go, my beloved children, live your life.

Wounded, faint, bleeding, never yield the strife.

Stunned, fallen-awake, arise, and fight again.

Before you victory stands, with shining train Of hopes not credible until they are.

Beyond mora.s.s and mountain swells the star Of perfect love--the home of longing heart and brain