I KNOW , whatever God may be,
All Life it was that lighted me
This little flame whereby I see.

I know All Strength did stir this hand
To serve somehow the poor command
Of whatsoe'er I understand.

And from All Love there throbs the stress
Of pity and of wistfulness
Both to be blessèd and to bless.

O Light of Light, that still doth pour
On star and glow-worm known before,
I am alive … for evermore!