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

Trailing gently

O'er and beyond the hill-top bowers.

Return to Index