The sweep, O heart, of Love's account...

The sweep, O heart, of Love's account!

Hearken: “I am of life the Fount;

All are within My deeps of Being,

The toiling city, the sea, the mount.

“Yea, when thou cleav'st the pillared tree,

Raisest the stone, I am with thee;

Darkness and light, flux and becoming,

Signal My presence, and ceaselessly.

“Regard Me not as though afar;

Ope thine heart's eyes, and, lo, My Star

Burns‘ neath Time's vesture, true Shekinah,

Centre and Soul of the things that are.”