Classic Poem

We place Thy sacred name upon our brows;
—Our cycles from Thy natal day we score:
Yet, in spite of all our songs and all our vows,
—We thirst and ever thirst to know Thee more.

For Thou art Mystery and Question still;
—Even when we see Thee lifted as a sign
Drawing all men unto that hapless hill
—With the resistless power of love divine.

Still Thou art Question—while rings in our ears
—Thine outcry to a world discord-beset:
Have I been with thee all these many years,
—O World—dost thou not know Me even yet?

We place Thy sacred name upon our brows;
Our cycles from Thy natal day we score:
Yet, in spite of all our songs and all our vows,
We thirst and ever thirst to know Thee more.

For Thou art Mystery and Question still;
Even when we see Thee lifted as a sign
Drawing all men unto that hapless hill
With the resistless power of love divine.

Still Thou art Question—while rings in our ears
Thine outcry to a world discord-beset:
Have I been with thee all these many years,
O World—dost thou not know Me even yet?