FAUST
With old, profound, unutterable grief
My spirit speaks in me: as, many a time
In childhood, at the hour of evening dusk,
When all the room was still and shadowy,
I, at my mother's knee, wept out my heart
And knew not why I wept. And I am drawn
Out of myself upon the music's tide,
With nameless sorrowing, with childlike pain—
As though in careless play-hours of the day
I had done hurt to someone that I loved.
Ah, I am homesick; and in all the world
There is no knee at which I can weep out
My loneliness. There is no breast of peace
And silence and forgiveness for this child
In any dusk-strewn chamber....
BRANDER
There is God!
FAUST
O God, can Thine arms fold me? Can my weight
Of loneliness and failure and despair
With the day's fruitage, find a child's release
In Thy great tenderness? I am a child;
And life's vast terrors gather round my soul;
And I am frightened. I am weary, Lord!
It darkens; and the storms creep on with night;
The shadows come; the wanderer would turn home.
[Faust falls to his knees; he bows his head. Again
the organ throbs, the choir sings.
Voices Singing
To His peace shalt thou yield thee;
In His love shalt thou sleep;
All the rills of thy valleys
Shall merge in His deep.
To His hands shalt thou offer
All hope thou hast known.
His hope and His glory
Shall compass thine own.
And the vain stars of longing
Shall fade in His sun;
And the vain hand shall stay;
And His Will Shall Be Done.