She spake those words, and then
Was silent in her heart;
Mother of Silence, when
Her will spake from her heart
Her lips had done their part.
And only once we hear
Her words that intercede;
Her will so sweetly clear
Those lips should intercede,
And help men in their need.
Out of her silence grew
The Word, and as a man
He neither cried nor knew
The strivings of a man,
When doom for Him began.
And after He had gone
From Earth to Heaven away,
He came and lingered on;
He would not pass away,
But with His people stay.
Son of the Silent Maid,
He chose her silence too.
In dumbness He hath stayed,
Dumbness unbroken too,
Past measure—as night-dew.
O quiet, holy Host,
Our pondering Joy and Light,
In Thy still power engrossed,
As a mute star pleads light,
Thou pleadest, Infinite!
REAL PRESENCE
I APPROACH Thy Altar.... Stay!
Let me break away!
Level stones of marble, brazen lights,
Linen spread, flowers on the shelves and heights—
I bow down, I kneel ...
And far away, where the sun sets, would reel!
For from forth Thy altar Thou
Strikest on me now,
Strikest on me, firm and warm to thrill,
With the charm of one whose touch could kill;
Giving me desire
Toward substance, yet for flight the lightning’s fire.
So, if close a lover kneels,
Praying close, one feels
All the body’s flow of life reined tight,
As when waters struggle at their height;
From Thy altar-stone,
Thou in my body bodily art known.