May gasp their hopes in frequent verse, they half philosophize,
Build temples to the monarch steam, be victors o’er the sea—
Their pride, their power shall disappear at one dark glance from me!
O for the fierce wild rapture of that fast approaching day,
When man and his brief dwelling in the storm are swept away.”
Far in the centre of all space burns the eternal throne,
Where God, unseen, ineffable, dwells in his light alone.
“My Son,” the one existence saith, “earth speeds its course to thee,
And soon beneath thy rule of love its kingdoms shall be free.
The demons dream of fury, of swift, consuming fire,