alm soul, unkindled by the sight
Of open heavens at noon of night,
Thou'lt dread the fires of day of judgment
When roll the skies as a parchment slight.
He waits not for that upward gaze—
The world is full of judgment days;
And every night the page is written,
"An atheist," or "Behold he prays!"
Ah, me! These lights so manifold,
So silvern new, so golden old,
Do witness swift, like fires of vengeance,
Against indifferent hearts and cold.
here are no solitudes to view,
The whole world lies in drop of dew;
From where it hangs all space is open;
It neighbors stars of the crystal blue.
This open vision has my soul
Athrill with silent organ-roll
Of immanence divine, and feels it
Upgather all in harmonious whole,—
Deep waves of God's vast music clear,
That pulse one choral atmosphere
Of Love's concordant purposes, and
Fore-score the song of His golden year.