THE SHADOW AND THE LIGHT.

The fourteen centuries fall away

Between us and the Afric saint,

And at his side we urge, to-day,

The immemorial quest and old complaint.

No outward sign to us is given,—

From sea or earth comes no reply;

Hushed as the warm Numidian heaven

He vainly questioned bends our frozen sky.

No victory comes of all our strife,—

From all we grasp the meaning slips;

The Sphinx sits at the gate of life,

With the old question on her awful lips.

In paths unknown we hear the feet

Of fear before, and guilt behind;

We pluck the wayside fruit, and eat

Ashes and dust beneath its golden rind.

From age to age descends unchecked

The sad bequest of sire to son,

The body's taint, the mind's defect;

Through every web of life the dark threads run.

Oh, why and whither? God knows all;

I only know that He is good,

And that whatever may befall

Or here or there, must be the best that could.

Between the dreadful cherubim

A Father's face I still discern,

As Moses looked of old on Him,

And saw His glory into goodness turn!

For He is merciful as just;

And so, by faith correcting sight,

I bow before His will, and trust

Howe'er they seem He doeth all things right.

And dare to hope that Tie will make

The rugged smooth, the doubtful plain;

His mercy never quite forsake;

His healing visit every realm of pain;

That suffering is not His revenge

Upon His creatures weak and frail,

Sent on a pathway new and strange

With feet that wander and with eyes that fail;

That, o'er the crucible of pain,

Watches the tender eye of Love

The slow transmuting of the chain

Whose links are iron below to gold above!

Ah me! we doubt the shining skies,

Seen through our shadows of offence,

And drown with our poor childish cries

The cradle-hymn of kindly Providence.

And still we love the evil cause,

And of the just effect complain

We tread upon life's broken laws,

And murmur at our self-inflicted pain;

We turn us from the light, and find

Our spectral shapes before us thrown,

As they who leave the sun behind

Walk in the shadows of themselves alone.

And scarce by will or strength of ours

We set our faces to the day;

Weak, wavering, blind, the Eternal Powers

Alone can turn us from ourselves away.

Our weakness is the strength of sin,

But love must needs be stronger far,

Outreaching all and gathering in

The erring spirit and the wandering star.

A Voice grows with the growing years;

Earth, hushing down her bitter cry,

Looks upward from her graves, and hears,

“The Resurrection and the Life am I.”

O Love Divine!— whose constant beam

Shines on the eyes that will not see,

And waits to bless us, while we dream

Thou leavest us because we turn from thee!

All souls that struggle and aspire,

All hearts of prayer by thee are lit;

And, dim or clear, thy tongues of fire

On dusky tribes and twilight centuries sit.

Nor bounds, nor clime, nor creed thou know'st,

Wide as our need thy favors fall;

The white wings of the Holy Ghost

Stoop, seen or unseen, o'er the heads of all.

O Beauty, old yet ever new!

Eternal Voice, and Inward Word,

The Logos of the Greek and Jew,

The old sphere-music which the Samian heard!

Truth, which the sage and prophet saw,

Long sought without, but found within,

The Law of Love beyond all law,

The Life o'erflooding mortal death and sin!

Shine on us with the light which glowed

Upon the trance-bound shepherd's way.

Who saw the Darkness overflowed

And drowned by tides of everlasting Day.

Shine, light of God!— make broad thy scope

To all who sin and suffer; more

And better than we dare to hope

With Heaven's compassion make our longings poor!