Classic Poem

He will come;
I know not when, or how;
But he will walk breast-high with God, stepping among the stars.
Clothed in light and crowned with glory he will stride down the Milky Way,
Creating with a thought, building with a word.
A hundred million ages it may be until he comes, what does it matter?
Consider the deliberate stars — how eternity awaits their fulfillments.
A hundred million ages, and yet, sometimes,
Here and now, in these small primeval days — in this dull gloaming of creation's dawn —
Here and now, sometimes, there crackles out a tiny shimmering spark,
Some hint in our blind, protoplasmic lives,
Of that far, infinite torch
Whose ray shall one day touch the utmost reaches of space
Where life is borne.

One that has made brotherhood with the eagle and the hawk:
One that has made voices speak across the emptiness;
One that has laid cheer and comfort to the tired heart —
These and a thousand others are the prophecy;
These tell of the day
When the poor expedient of birth and the trouble of dying have been dismissed,
And all the sad advantages of the body are long forgot.
Walking as the angels walk, but greater than the angels,
He that will come will know not space or time, nor any limitation,
But will step across the sky, infinite, supreme, one with God.

He will come;
I know not when, or how;
But he will walk breast-high with God, stepping among the stars.
Clothed in light and crowned with glory he will stride down the Milky Way,
Creating with a thought, building with a word.

A hundred million ages it may be until he comes, what does it matter?
Consider the deliberate stars — how eternity awaits their fulfilments.
A hundred million ages, and yet, sometimes,
Here and now, in these small primeval days — in this dull gloaming of creation's dawn —
Here and now, sometimes, there crackles out a tiny shimmering spark,
Some hint in our blind, protoplasmic lives,
Of that far, infinite torch
Whose ray shall one day touch the utmost reaches of space
Where life is borne.
One that has made brotherhood with the eagle and the hawk
One that has made voices speak across the emptiness;
One that has laid cheer and comfort to the tired heart —
These and a thousand others are the prophecy;
These tell of the day
When the poor expedient of birth and the trouble of dying have been dismissed,
And all the sad advantages of the body are long forgot.
Walking as the angels walk, but greater than the angels,
He that will come will know not space or time, nor any limitation,
But will step across the sky, infinite, supreme, one with God.