Classic Poem

There is one Mind, one omnipresent Mind,
Omnific. His most holy name is Love.
Truth of subliming import! With the which
Who feeds and saturates his constant soul,
He from his small particular orbit flies
With blest outstarting! From himself he flies,
Stands in the sun, and with no partial gaze
Views all creation; and he loves it all,
And blesses it, and calls it very good!
This is indeed to dwell with the Most High!
Cherubs and rapture-trembling Seraphim
Can press no nearer to the Almighty's throne.
But that we roam unconscious, or with hearts
Unfeeling of our universal Sire,
And that in His vast family no Cain
Injures uninjured (in her best-aimed blow
Victorious Murder a blind Suicide)
Haply for this some younger Angel now
Looks down on Human Nature: and, behold!
A sea of blood bestrewed with wrecks, where mad
Embattling Interests on each other rush
With unhelmed rage!
'Tis the sublime of man,
Our noontide Majesty, to know ourselves
Parts and proportions of one wondrous whole!
This fraternizes man, this constitutes
Our charities and bearings. But 'tis God
Diffused through all, that doth make all one whole;
This the worst superstition, him except
Aught to desire, Supreme Reality!
The plenitude and permanence of bliss!

There is one Mind, one omnipresent Mind
Omnific. His most holy name is LOVE—
Truth of subliming import! with the which
Who feeds and saturates his constant soul,
He from his small particular orbit flies
With blessed outstarting! From himself he flies,
Stands in the sun, and with no partial gaze
Views all creation, and he loves it all
And blesses it, and calls it very good!
This is indeed to dwell with the Most High—
Cherubs and rapture-trembling seraphim
Can press no nearer to th' Almighty's throne.
But that we roam unconscious, or with hearts
Unfeeling of our universal Sire,
And that in his vast family no Cain
Injures uninjured (in her best-aimed blow
Victorious murder a blind suicide),
Haply for this some younger angel now
Looks down on human nature—and behold!
A sea of blood bestrewed with wrecks where mad
Embattling interests on each other rush
With unhelmed rage!
'Tis the sublime of man,
Our noontide majesty, to know ourselves
Parts and proportions of one wondrous whole;
This fraternizes man, this constitutes
Our charities and bearings—but 'tis God
Diffused through all that doth make all one whole.
This the worst superstition: Him except,
Aught to desire, supreme reality,
The plenitude and permanence of bliss!
Oh fiends of superstition!—not that oft
Your pitiless rites have floated with man's blood
The skull-piled temple, not for this shall wrath
Thunder against you from the Holy One!
But (whether ye th' unclimbing bigot mock
With secondary gods, or if more pleased
Ye petrify th' imbrothelled atheist's heart—
The atheist your worst slave) I o'er some plain
Peopled with death, and to the silent sun
Steaming with tyrant-murdered multitudes,
Or where mid groans and shrieks loud-laughing trade
More hideous packs his bales of living anguish—
I will raise up a mourning, oh ye fiends,
And curse your spells that film the eye of faith:
Hiding the present God, whose presence lost,
The moral world's cohesion, we become
An anarchy of spirits! Toy-bewitched,
Made blind by lusts, disherited of soul
No common centre man, no common sire
Knoweth! A sordid solitary thing,
Mid countless brethren with a lonely heart,
Through courts and cities the smooth savage roams
Feeling himself, his own low self the whole,
When he by sacred sympathy might make
The whole one self! Self, that no alien knows!
Self, far diffused as fancy's wing can travel!
Self, spreading still, oblivious of its own,
Yet all of all possessing! This is faith!
This the Messiah's destined victory!