There is only one great secret; but that one hideth everywhere;
How should the infinite be understood in Time, when it stretcheth on ungrasped for ever?
Can a halting Œdipus of earth guess that enigma of the universe?
Not one: the sword of faith must cut the Gordian knot of nature.
God, pervading all, is in all things the mystery of each;
The wherefore of its character and essence, the fountain of its virtues and its beauties.
The child asketh of its mother,—Wherefore is the violet so sweet?
The mother answereth her babe,—Darling, God hath willed it.
And sages, diving into science, have but a profundity of words;
They track for some few links the circling chain of consequence,