Antiphones
I .
THELOVEOFGOD.
How can I love Thee, God that madest me?
Who saith he loves Thee, lies!
Behold him, mouthing on his bended knee,
Upgazing to the skies!
Thy works, Thy wonders, Thine Omnipotence?
Shall these awake my love?
Nay, these are only phantoms of the sense
Whereby I live and move!
Thy mercies and Thy gifts? — Thy large delight
In making living things?
Love is not born of any token bright
Imperial Nature brings.
I love my fellow men, I love this hound
Who gently licks my hand,
I love the land around me, and the sound
Of children in the land.
But Thee? I love not Thee! — Stoop down, come near
To me whom Thou hast made,
Then I may know Thee close, and hold Thee dear, —
But now I shrink afraid.
There's never a helpless thing surrounding me,
No timid bird or beast,
I love not better far, O God, than Thee,
Tho' Thou be first, these least.
I love the maid I woo, the mother whose touch
I feel upon my brow,
The friend who grips my hand! — for these are such
As I, and not as Thou.
Thou Vision of my Thought! Thou Mystery
Of which men preach and rave!
I would not look, if Heaven held only Thee ,
One foot beyond the grave!
I seek the gentle ones who once were near,
Not Thee, O light above, —
I crave for all who learn'd to love me here
And whom I learn'd to love!
Out of Thy Darkness to this Light I came,
Thro' whim or wish of Thine,
O Miracle! O God unknown! O Name
Eternal and Divine!
And since Thy Glory fills these nights and days
That are so fugitive,
I give Thee thanks, O God, I give Thee praise,
But love I cannot give!
II.
CONTRA CHRISTUM.
No Mediator, none! If thou art God,
Thy torments were self-wrought;
If thou wast Man, despised and undertrod,
Thy sorrows teach me nought.
I look within and find my Godhead there ,
Not yonder on the Cross!
Sharer of my soul's doubt, my heart's despair,
My daily gain and loss,
How shouldst thou mediate for me and mine
Who art thyself not free?
If thou thyself wast deathless and Divine,
What part hast thou with me?
If thou art but the Son, and like the rest
Fell slain before God's Throne,
Then will I love thee (lo! my hand is prest,
Dear Comrade, in thine own!)
But if thou art the Father in disguise,
I snatch my hand away —
Back to thy realm, back to thy silent skies, —
I'll wait thy Judgment Day!
I search within, I find my one God still.
What answereth He? " Had I
Been God all-Powerful, fashioning to my will
All things that creep or fly,
" I had not built their glory or their gain
On endless suffering,
I had not blent my Godhead with the pain
Of any living thing."
Can the all-Powerful be all-Pitiful?
The all-Cruel be all-Kind?
If this be so then thou, my God, art null,
Then thou, my Soul, art blind!
No Mediator, then! Soul of my Soul,
God of my Thought, rest free:
Sure of myself while the long ages roll,
I turn in peace to Thee .
III.
MY ENEMY.
Like to a Leper clings this man to me,
I strike at him in vain!
My soul is haunted by mine enemy
In endless forms of pain.
I would forget him, turning in delight
To those my soul holds dear.
I cannot. Like my shadow, day and night,
Mine enemy is here.
My very being, blighted with his breath,
Droops like a thing forlorn,
Yea, with his presence, dim and dread as Death,
My living force is worn.
I scorn him as the dust beneath my feet,
I curse him loud or low —
God hears me yonder on His Judgment Seat,
And yet he doth not go.
Yea, even more firmly than the first and best
Of mortals loved by me,
Clingeth with fierce hands on my wounded breast,
This man, mine enemy!
Sometimes, when fiercely struggling throat to throat,
Like snakes that intertwine,
Our eyes meet, and within his eyes I note
An agony like mine.
Sometimes, when God doth beckon from His skies
And bids me climb or soar,
I see great tear-drops in the hated eyes
That mock me ever more.
And now I know that neither I nor he
Can ever part at all, —
If I arise, I lift mine enemy,
And if he falls, I fall!
Nay, then, we two must down or upward move
With the like end and aim, —
The links of Hate are as the links of Love,
Nay (Nature saith) the same!
The same? Nay then, I hold mine enemy
Too near for hate or scorn,
For what I hate in him is born of me, —
Like his own hate, self-born.
At last I pray for him, and praying know
That he and I are one, —
United at God's feet we fall, and lo!
Our foolish strife is done!
IV.
RESURRECTION.
Scorner of Flesh, thou who wouldst plunge in gloom
This radiant thing God made,
What shall abide if this should cease to bloom,
This Flesh Divine should fade?
The Soul? A Flower of which this Flesh is seed?
Nay, Flesh and Soul are one!
Thou who wouldst part this one in twain, take heed,
Lest all should be undone!
This eye of Flesh, to see and apprehend,
Is thy Soul's eye! This clay,
That adumbrates thy Soul, shall find no end
Till that, too, fades away!
Lo, lying with a lily in her hand,
Thy dear one slumbereth, —
Yet on a day she shall arise and stand
Smiling on vanquish'd Death.
All Flesh, all Form, all that was pure and fair
Here on Life's crowded road,
She shall arise, — nay, not one little hair
Shall pass away, saith God!
All that was beautiful, all thine eyes and sense
Saw beautiful and whole,
The Form, the Flesh, no part shall vanish hence,
Since these things are the Soul!
Nought that is beautiful can die, — no form
That once grew fair can fade, —
This flesh shall still be radiant, sweet, and warm,
Form of the soul God made!
From the unconscious to the conscious life
Man hath emerged, to know
Self-knowledge, Sight, victorious o'er the strife
Of Nature's ebb and flow.
The day God can divide this life in twain
Its length of day is done,
But both, be sure, will rise and live again,
If Flesh and Soul are one!
V.
NATURE.
Nought is so sure as this, that Nature strives
Reckless of human pain,
That on the hecatomb of slaughtered lives
She looks with large disdain.
Canst thou appease her hunger? For a space,
But surely not for long; —
She strews Life's Deep with wreckage of our race,
For she alone is strong.
Behind her footsteps crawl Calamity,
Sorrow, Disease, and Death!
And yet she shareth in the agony
Of these, who are her breath.
Gladsome and beautiful, divinely fair,
Eager to blight or bless,
She carries in her heart all life's despair,
Yet still is pitiless.
How then escape her? Summon to thine aid
Thy God, all gods that be, —
Inexorable, silent, undismayed,
She smiles on them and thee.
Fringe of her raiment, dewdrops on her feet,
Gleams of her own surmise,
Thy Gods go with her, fading as they meet
The flashing of her eyes.
Dying yet deathless, changeful yet unchanged,
Still here, though all are gone,
All Love, all Hate, avenging and avenged,
She passeth slowly or.
Yet be of comfort, — let her wend her way!
Watch as she goeth by!
The power which slayeth all things cannot slay
Herself, — who cannot die;
And thou , my soul, art deathless, being part
Of her who is Divine, —
Pulse of that great and ever-beating Heart,
Its length of life is thine!
Destroying all things, she destroyeth nought
(Wherefore, be comforted!)
For if her life could fail within thy thought,
She would herself be dead!
THELOVEOFGOD.
How can I love Thee, God that madest me?
Who saith he loves Thee, lies!
Behold him, mouthing on his bended knee,
Upgazing to the skies!
Thy works, Thy wonders, Thine Omnipotence?
Shall these awake my love?
Nay, these are only phantoms of the sense
Whereby I live and move!
Thy mercies and Thy gifts? — Thy large delight
In making living things?
Love is not born of any token bright
Imperial Nature brings.
I love my fellow men, I love this hound
Who gently licks my hand,
I love the land around me, and the sound
Of children in the land.
But Thee? I love not Thee! — Stoop down, come near
To me whom Thou hast made,
Then I may know Thee close, and hold Thee dear, —
But now I shrink afraid.
There's never a helpless thing surrounding me,
No timid bird or beast,
I love not better far, O God, than Thee,
Tho' Thou be first, these least.
I love the maid I woo, the mother whose touch
I feel upon my brow,
The friend who grips my hand! — for these are such
As I, and not as Thou.
Thou Vision of my Thought! Thou Mystery
Of which men preach and rave!
I would not look, if Heaven held only Thee ,
One foot beyond the grave!
I seek the gentle ones who once were near,
Not Thee, O light above, —
I crave for all who learn'd to love me here
And whom I learn'd to love!
Out of Thy Darkness to this Light I came,
Thro' whim or wish of Thine,
O Miracle! O God unknown! O Name
Eternal and Divine!
And since Thy Glory fills these nights and days
That are so fugitive,
I give Thee thanks, O God, I give Thee praise,
But love I cannot give!
II.
CONTRA CHRISTUM.
No Mediator, none! If thou art God,
Thy torments were self-wrought;
If thou wast Man, despised and undertrod,
Thy sorrows teach me nought.
I look within and find my Godhead there ,
Not yonder on the Cross!
Sharer of my soul's doubt, my heart's despair,
My daily gain and loss,
How shouldst thou mediate for me and mine
Who art thyself not free?
If thou thyself wast deathless and Divine,
What part hast thou with me?
If thou art but the Son, and like the rest
Fell slain before God's Throne,
Then will I love thee (lo! my hand is prest,
Dear Comrade, in thine own!)
But if thou art the Father in disguise,
I snatch my hand away —
Back to thy realm, back to thy silent skies, —
I'll wait thy Judgment Day!
I search within, I find my one God still.
What answereth He? " Had I
Been God all-Powerful, fashioning to my will
All things that creep or fly,
" I had not built their glory or their gain
On endless suffering,
I had not blent my Godhead with the pain
Of any living thing."
Can the all-Powerful be all-Pitiful?
The all-Cruel be all-Kind?
If this be so then thou, my God, art null,
Then thou, my Soul, art blind!
No Mediator, then! Soul of my Soul,
God of my Thought, rest free:
Sure of myself while the long ages roll,
I turn in peace to Thee .
III.
MY ENEMY.
Like to a Leper clings this man to me,
I strike at him in vain!
My soul is haunted by mine enemy
In endless forms of pain.
I would forget him, turning in delight
To those my soul holds dear.
I cannot. Like my shadow, day and night,
Mine enemy is here.
My very being, blighted with his breath,
Droops like a thing forlorn,
Yea, with his presence, dim and dread as Death,
My living force is worn.
I scorn him as the dust beneath my feet,
I curse him loud or low —
God hears me yonder on His Judgment Seat,
And yet he doth not go.
Yea, even more firmly than the first and best
Of mortals loved by me,
Clingeth with fierce hands on my wounded breast,
This man, mine enemy!
Sometimes, when fiercely struggling throat to throat,
Like snakes that intertwine,
Our eyes meet, and within his eyes I note
An agony like mine.
Sometimes, when God doth beckon from His skies
And bids me climb or soar,
I see great tear-drops in the hated eyes
That mock me ever more.
And now I know that neither I nor he
Can ever part at all, —
If I arise, I lift mine enemy,
And if he falls, I fall!
Nay, then, we two must down or upward move
With the like end and aim, —
The links of Hate are as the links of Love,
Nay (Nature saith) the same!
The same? Nay then, I hold mine enemy
Too near for hate or scorn,
For what I hate in him is born of me, —
Like his own hate, self-born.
At last I pray for him, and praying know
That he and I are one, —
United at God's feet we fall, and lo!
Our foolish strife is done!
IV.
RESURRECTION.
Scorner of Flesh, thou who wouldst plunge in gloom
This radiant thing God made,
What shall abide if this should cease to bloom,
This Flesh Divine should fade?
The Soul? A Flower of which this Flesh is seed?
Nay, Flesh and Soul are one!
Thou who wouldst part this one in twain, take heed,
Lest all should be undone!
This eye of Flesh, to see and apprehend,
Is thy Soul's eye! This clay,
That adumbrates thy Soul, shall find no end
Till that, too, fades away!
Lo, lying with a lily in her hand,
Thy dear one slumbereth, —
Yet on a day she shall arise and stand
Smiling on vanquish'd Death.
All Flesh, all Form, all that was pure and fair
Here on Life's crowded road,
She shall arise, — nay, not one little hair
Shall pass away, saith God!
All that was beautiful, all thine eyes and sense
Saw beautiful and whole,
The Form, the Flesh, no part shall vanish hence,
Since these things are the Soul!
Nought that is beautiful can die, — no form
That once grew fair can fade, —
This flesh shall still be radiant, sweet, and warm,
Form of the soul God made!
From the unconscious to the conscious life
Man hath emerged, to know
Self-knowledge, Sight, victorious o'er the strife
Of Nature's ebb and flow.
The day God can divide this life in twain
Its length of day is done,
But both, be sure, will rise and live again,
If Flesh and Soul are one!
V.
NATURE.
Nought is so sure as this, that Nature strives
Reckless of human pain,
That on the hecatomb of slaughtered lives
She looks with large disdain.
Canst thou appease her hunger? For a space,
But surely not for long; —
She strews Life's Deep with wreckage of our race,
For she alone is strong.
Behind her footsteps crawl Calamity,
Sorrow, Disease, and Death!
And yet she shareth in the agony
Of these, who are her breath.
Gladsome and beautiful, divinely fair,
Eager to blight or bless,
She carries in her heart all life's despair,
Yet still is pitiless.
How then escape her? Summon to thine aid
Thy God, all gods that be, —
Inexorable, silent, undismayed,
She smiles on them and thee.
Fringe of her raiment, dewdrops on her feet,
Gleams of her own surmise,
Thy Gods go with her, fading as they meet
The flashing of her eyes.
Dying yet deathless, changeful yet unchanged,
Still here, though all are gone,
All Love, all Hate, avenging and avenged,
She passeth slowly or.
Yet be of comfort, — let her wend her way!
Watch as she goeth by!
The power which slayeth all things cannot slay
Herself, — who cannot die;
And thou , my soul, art deathless, being part
Of her who is Divine, —
Pulse of that great and ever-beating Heart,
Its length of life is thine!
Destroying all things, she destroyeth nought
(Wherefore, be comforted!)
For if her life could fail within thy thought,
She would herself be dead!
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