The Disciple: XXVI

But is my will alive, awake?
The one God will not heed
If in my lips or hands I take
A half-word or half-deed.

Hour after hour I sit and dream,
Amazed in outwardness;
The powers of things that only seem
The things that are oppress;

Till in my soul some discord sounds,
Till sinks some yawning lack;
Then turn I from life's rippling rounds,
And unto thee come back.

Thou seest how poor a thing am I,
Yet hear, whate'er I be;
Despairing of my will, I cry,
Be God enough to me.

My spirit, low, irresolute,
I cast before thy feet;
And wait, while even prayer is mute,
For what thou judgest meet.