The Silence of Faith

I can­not mas­ter time and space

Nor bid im­pe­tu­ous ag­es stay;

I can­not al­ter noon and night

Nor turn the sha­dows in­to day.

I may not span un­mea­sured skies

Nor grasp the Plei­ads in my hand;

The far and near

the great and small

I see

but can­not un­der­stand.

I help­less sit

hemmed in by pow­er

And will su­pe­ri­or to my own

Encompassed round by laws un­seen

Controlled by all

con­troll­ing none;

Yet I can lean on Him who guides

The sky

and sea

and faith­ful tides.

I can­not bid the tomb dis­gorge

The tro­phies of the ty­rant’s pow­er;

I can­not charm the spoil­er’s hate

Nor flush again one pall­id flow­er.

A mor­tal ’mid the mor­tal here

I mourn the si­lent

sad de­cay

Of all that makes this world so fair

But can­not bid one ra­di­ance stay.

Fain would I loose the chain of ill

That fet­ters this sad

tor­tured earth

Yet I can but its wrongs and woes

Commit to Him who gave it birth.

And to the Liv­ing One I fly

For health and im­mor­tal­ity.

The cur­rent of one hu­man will

Is far too strong for me to stem;

The rush­ing flood of a thou­sand wills

How can I hope to baf­fle them?

I can­not al­ter right and wrong

Nor change the false in­to the true;

I can­not judge the Judge of all

His thoughts

His ways

His words re­view.

He speaks! I hear! O voice su­preme

Beyond all voic­es sweet

sub­lime!

He the eter­nal

wise and true

And I be­mist­ed child of time.

To Him in fool­ish­ness I come

Before Him rev­er­ent and dumb.

I see the years like bil­lows break

Upon the pass­ive strand of time

And as they break

sweep off in turn

Man’s works of ev­ery age and clime.

Who

what am I amid the wreck

Of all this beau­ty

love

and pow­er

O’er which I weep

but whose de­cay

I can­not hin­der for an hour?

The true is nev­er ob­so­lete

The nev­er old is nev­er stale;

I guard the gold of an­cient mines

And ga­ther gems

though few and pale;

I call them fair—as fair as when

They dropped from God’s bright Heav’n for men.