Thought is truth's echo—not her glorious eyes
Beholding God, nor her white arms of light,
Lifted in worship. Following truth, our flight
At highest range is where our echo dies.
Oh all your power and beauty, earth and skys!
And, Soul and Mind! your Beauty and your Might—
Truth gathers in one flash and, catching sight
Of God, lifts high in love's full sacrifice.
Twixt Truth and Thought, what Truth is oft is space
Wherein, with intuition for her wing,