And beholding face to face unveiled Deity;
Contemplating the Mirror wherein I see and read
Past and present, and whatever remains to be.
Food and drink too are mine, yet both are one;
Mystery known to him who is worthy to know.
It is not “wine sweet of taste” that I drink;
No, nor “water,” but the pure milk of a mother.
Understand my meaning aright, for the secret
Is signified by words of symbol and figure,—
I have journey’d on, and left you behind;