The Disciple: VIII

The preacher's words are true, I know--
That man may lose his life;
That every man must downward go
Without the upward strife.

'Twere well my soul should cease to roam,
Should seek and have and hold!
It may be there is yet a home
In that religion old.

Again I kneel, again I pray:
_Wilt thou be God to me?
Wilt thou give ear to what I say,
And lift me up to thee_?

Lord, is it true? Oh, vision high!
The clouds of heaven dispart;
An opening depth of loving sky
Looks down into my heart!

There is a home wherein to dwell--
The very heart of light!
Thyself my sun immutable,
My moon and stars all night!

I thank thee, Lord. It must be so,
Its beauty is so good.
Up in my heart thou mad'st it go,
And I have understood.

The clouds return. The common day
Falls on me like a No;
But I have seen what might be--may,
And with a hope I go.