Classic Poem

THE GOD

They said, For us the deeps were stirr'd
in the first, and us the groping mood
went forth to seek, the intended Word,
whom Edens, ineffectual, woo'd.

— whereof all time bears the plain proof!
for is not earth our own to hold?
before our shod and mailed hoof
have all not fall'n, however bold?

A lord of war, our God on high
sits thron'd, and other none beside:
and evermore beneath His eye
greater we wax, His stay and pride.

His tent is spread about the suns,
and all the hoary abysms around
(if grace was theirs to bear such sons)
they are empty of God, they lie discrown'd.

If thence a threat to gulf us break,
we reck not: death is ever vain:
new-waked, they travail for our sake,
and His, the God's whom we maintain;

Whose heart within Him swells or pines
as homeward driven or foeward set
He views our wide-flung battle-lines
— for He must pass, if we forget!