The broken tool still hastens His word to fulfil.
“The mystery of His word: ‘We abrogate, annul,’[419]
Remember, straight is followed by: ‘We better cull.’[420]140
Whatever law the Lord hath abrogated yet,
Is but a weed plucked up;—a rose blooms where ’twas set.
The night He promulgates; day’s work refrains from act.
Consider! Mind becomes like inorganic fact.
Again, night disappears; the light of day is spread;
And nature shows its marvels; reason wakes from dead.
With darkness comes the sleep that locks our reason fast,