Classic Poem

And thus the mind by its own impulse deep,
As lightning instantly enlighteneth,
May cleave the shades of sin, the shapes of death
That pace it round all day and never sleep,
That watch the wall all night and pace it round —
Yet not its own. In man's extremity
God lends the light we use, the strength we keep.
So let us use that light, that we may be
Oh, not perhaps with others thronged and crowned
But at the last in white arrayment found, —
So daily use it, that the mystery
Of life we touch: in cloud and wind and tree,
In human faces that about us dwell,
And the deep soul that knoweth heaven and hell.