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Burn through the cracks of night。So slowly； Lord；
To lift myself to thee with hands of toil；
Climbing the slippery cliff of unheard prayer！
Lift up a hand among my idle days
One beckoning finger。 I will cast aside
The clogs of earthly circumstance； and run
Up the broad highways where the countless worlds
Sit ripening in the summer of thy love。'
Breathless for fear of losing a word； Robert yet remembered that he
had seen something like these words in the papers Ericson had given
him to read on the night when his illness began。 When he had fallen
asleep and silent； he searched and found the poem from which I give
the following extracts。 He had not looked at the papers since that
night。
A PRAYER。
O Lord； my God； how long
Shall my poor heart pant for a boundless joy？
How long； O mighty Spirit； shall I hear
The murmur of Truth's crystal waters slide
》From the deep caverns of their endless being；
But my lips taste not； and the grosser air
Choke each pure inspiration of thy will？
I would be a wind；
Whose smallest atom is a viewless wing；
All busy with the pulsing life that throbs
To do thy bidding； yea； or the meanest thing
That has relation to a changeless truth
Could I but be instinct with theeeach thought
The lightning of a pure intelligence；
And every act as the loud thunder…clap
Of currents warring for a vacuum。
Lord； clothe me with thy truth as with a robe。
Purge me with sorrow。 I will bend my head；
And let the nations of thy waves pass over；
Bathing me in thy consecrated strength。
And let the many…voiced and silver winds
Pass through my frame with their clear influence。
O save meI am blind； lo！ thwarting shapes
Wall up the void before； and thrusting out
Lean arms of unshaped expectation； beckon
Down to the night of all unholy thoughts。
I have seen
Unholy shapes lop off my shining thoughts；
Which I had thought nursed in thine emerald light；
And they have lent me leathern wings of fear；
Of baffled pride and harrowing distrust；
And Godhead with its crown of many stars；
Its pinnacles of flaming holiness；
And voice of leaves in the green summer…time；
Has seemed the shadowed image of a self。
Then my soul blackened； and I rose to find
And grasp my doom； and cleave the arching deeps
Of desolation。
O Lord； my soul is a forgotten well；
Clad round with its own rank luxuriance；
A fountain a kind sunbeam searches for；
Sinking the lustre of its arrowy finger
Through the long grass its own strange virtue5
Hath blinded up its crystal eye withal：
Make me a broad strong river coming down
With shouts from its high hills； whose rocky hearts
Throb forth the joy of their stability
In watery pulses from their inmost deeps；
And I shall be a vein upon thy world；
Circling perpetual from the parent deep。
O First and Last； O glorious all in all；
In vain my faltering human tongue would seek
To shape the vesture of the boundless thought；
Summing all causes in one burning word；
Give me the spirit's living tongue of fire；
Whose only voice is in an attitude
Of keenest tension； bent back on itself
With a strong upward force； even as thy bow
Of bended colour stands against the north；
And； in an attitude to spring to heaven；
Lays hold of the kindled hills。
Most mighty One；
Confirm and multiply my thoughts of good；
Help me to wall each sacred treasure round
With the firm battlements of special action。
Alas my holy； happy thoughts of thee
Make not perpetual nest within my soul；
But like strange birds of dazzling colours stoop
The trailing glories of their sunward speed；
For one glad moment filling my blasted boughs
With the sunshine of their wings。
Make me a forest
Of gladdest life； wherein perpetual spring
Lifts up her leafy tresses in the wind。
Lo！ now I see
Thy trembling starlight sit among my pines；
And thy young moon slide down my arching boughs
With a soft sound of restless eloquence。
And I can feel a joy as when thy hosts
Of trampling winds； gathering in maddened bands；
Roar upward through the blue and flashing day
Round my still depths of uncleft solitude。
Hear me； O Lord；
When the black night draws down upon my soul；
And voices of temptation darken down
The misty wind； slamming thy starry doors；
With bitter jests。 'Thou fool！' they seem to say
'Thou hast no seed of goodness in thee； all
Thy nature hath been stung right through and through。
Thy sin hath blasted thee； and made thee old。
Thou hadst a will； but thou hast killed itdead
And with the fulsome garniture of life
Built out the loathsome corpse。 Thou art a child
Of night and death； even lower than a worm。
Gather the skirts up of thy shadowy self；
And with what resolution thou hast left；
Fall on the damned spikes of doom。'
O take me like a child；
If thou hast made me for thyself； my God；
And lead me up thy hills。 I shall not fear
So thou wilt make me pure； and beat back sin
With the terrors of thine eye。
Lord hast thou sent
Thy moons to mock us with perpetual hope？
Lighted within our breasts the love of love；
To make us ripen for despair； my God？
Oh； dost thou hold each individual soul
Strung clear upon thy flaming rods of purpose？
Or does thine inextinguishable will
Stand on the steeps of night with lifted hand；
Filling the yawning wells of monstrous space
With mixing thoughtdrinking up single life
As in a cup？ and from the rending folds
Of glimmering purpose； the gloom do all thy navied stars
Slide through the gloom with mystic melody；
Like wishes on a brow？ Oh； is my soul；
Hung like a dew…drop in thy grassy ways；
Drawn up again into the rack of change；
Even through the lustre which created it？
O mighty one； thou wilt not smite me through
With scorching wrath； because my spirit stands
Bewildered in thy circling mysteries。
Here came the passage Robert had heard him repeat； and then the
following paragraph：
Lord； thy strange mysteries come thickening down
Upon my head like snow…flakes； shutting out
The happy upper fields with chilly vapour。
Shall I content my soul with a weak sense
Of safety？ or feed my ravenous hunger with
Sore…purged hopes； that are not hopes； but fears
Clad in white raiment？
I know not but some thin and vaporous fog；
Fed with the rank excesses of the soul；
Mocks the devouring hunger of my life
With satisfaction： lo！ the noxious gas
Feeds the lank ribs of gaunt and ghastly death
With double emptiness； like a balloon；
Borne by its lightness o'er the shining lands；
A wonder and a laughter。
The creeds lie in the hollow of men's hearts
Like festering pools glassing their own corruption：
The slimy eyes stare up with dull approval；
And answer not when thy bright starry feet
Move on the watery floors。
O wilt thou hear me when I cry to thee？
I am a child lost in a mighty forest；
The air is