第11章 MAY(2)
I would go near thee--but I cannot press Into thy presence--it helps not to presume.
Thy doors are deeds； the handles are their doing.
He whose day-life is obedient righteousness， Who， after failure， or a poor success， Rises up， stronger effort yet renewing--He finds thee， Lord， at length， in his own common room.
17.
Lord， thou hast carried me through this evening's duty；
I am released， weary， and well content.
O soul， put on the evening dress of beauty， Thy sunset-flush， of gold and purple blent！--Alas， the moment I turn to my heart， Feeling runs out of doors， or stands apart！
But such as I am， Lord， take me as thou art.
18.
The word he then did speak， fits now as then， For the same kind of men doth mock at it.
God-fools， God-drunkards these do call the men Who think the poverty of their all not fit， Borne humbly by their art， their voice， their pen， Save for its allness， at thy feet to fling， For whom all is unfit that is not everything.
19.
O Christ， my life， possess me utterly.
Take me and make a little Christ of me.
If I am anything but thy father's son， 'Tis something not yet from the darkness won.
Oh， give me light to live with open eyes.
Oh， give me life to hope above all skies.
Give me thy spirit to haunt the Father with my cries.
20.
'Tis hard for man to rouse his spirit up--It is the human creative agony， Though but to hold the heart an empty cup， Or tighten on the team the rigid rein.
Many will rather lie among the slain Than creep through narrow ways the light to gain--Than wake the will， and be born bitterly.
21.
But he who would be born again indeed， Must wake his soul unnumbered times a day， And urge himself to life with holy greed；
Now ope his bosom to the Wind's free play；
And now， with patience forceful， hard， lie still， Submiss and ready to the making will， Athirst and empty， for God's breath to fill.
22.
All times are thine whose will is our remede.
Man turns to thee， thou hast not turned away；
The look he casts， thy labour that did breed--It is thy work， thy business all the day：
That look， not foregone fitness， thou dost heed.
For duty absolute how be fitter than now？
Or learn by shunning？--Lord， I come； help thou.
23.
Ever above my coldness and my doubt Rises up something， reaching forth a hand：
This thing I know， but cannot understand.
Is it the God in me that rises out Beyond my self， trailing it up with him， Towards the spirit-home， the freedom-land， Beyond my conscious ken， my near horizon's brim？
24.
O God of man， my heart would worship all My fellow men， the flashes from thy fire；
Them in good sooth my lofty kindred call， Born of the same one heart， the perfect sire；
Love of my kind alone can set me free；
Help me to welcome all that come to me， Not close my doors and dream solitude liberty！
25.
A loving word may set some door ajar Where seemed no door， and that may enter in Which lay at the heart of that same loving word.
In my still chamber dwell thou always， Lord；
Thy presence there will carriage true afford；
True words will flow， pure of design to win；
And to my men my door shall have no bar.
26.
My prayers， my God， flow from what I am not；
I think thy answers make me what I am.
Like weary waves thought follows upon thought， But the still depth beneath is all thine own， And there thou mov'st in paths to us unknown.
Out of strange strife thy peace is strangely wrought；
If the lion in us pray--thou answerest the lamb.
27.
So bound in selfishness am I， so chained， I know it must be glorious to be free But know not what， full-fraught， the word doth mean.
By loss on loss I have severely gained Wisdom enough my slavery to see；
But liberty， pure， absolute， serene， No fre雜t-visioned slave has ever seen.
28.
For， that great freedom how should such as I Be able to imagine in such a self？
Less hopeless far the miser man might try To image the delight of friend-shared pelf.
Freedom is to be like thee， face and heart；
To know it， Lord， I must be as thou art， I cannot breed the imagination high.
29.
Yet hints come to me from the realm unknown；
Airs drift across the twilight border land， Odoured with life； and as from some far strand Sea-murmured， whispers to my heart are blown That fill me with a joy I cannot speak， Yea， from whose shadow words drop faint and weak：
Thee， God， I shadow in that region grand.
30.
O Christ， who didst appear in Judah land， Thence by the cross go back to God's right hand， Plain history， and things our sense beyond， In thee together come and correspond：
How rulest thou from the undiscovered bourne The world-wise world that laughs thee still to scorn？
Please， Lord， let thy disciple understand.
31.
'Tis heart on heart thou rulest. Thou art the same At God's right hand as here exposed to shame， And therefore workest now as thou didst then--Feeding the faint divine in humble men.
Through all thy realms from thee goes out heart-power， Working the holy， satisfying hour， When all shall love， and all be loved again.