By A Disciple
Mountains and trees sent me a call,
And out I came to talk to them,
But soon I lost each form and name;
My Senses melted in One, I sat alone in reverie,
Mind vanished like a bubble
Into the Cosmic Sea.
'Tis then that Thou gavest me
Ears to hear the mute notes
Of tall trees' immobile stand,
And well-sung music of joyful birds
Into a harmony made for an angelic band.
Thou gavest me the power
To feel that Silence, beyond man to steal.
The silence that touched my heart
And still it fills
—Is but an echo
Of the silence of th' majestic hills.
Thou gavest me the Eye and I could see
The finite in wordless play with Infinity.
The play that had the only rule
The latter did use,
And that's to make the former win
By making it lose.
Thou gavest me the power to feel
Thy soft etherial Presence of Love,
Cushioned alike on the stoney earth
As on the fluid sky that spreads above.
Thou didst bless me with another sense:
I could smell the fragrance
Of the blooming flowers
And their joy in the hem of the setting sun
O'er and beyond the hill-top bowers.
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