Has not the truth he holds—though plain;
For truth divine is gift, not debt:—
Her living waters wouldst thou drain?
Let down the pitcher, not the net!
But they, the spirits frank and meek,
Nor housed in self, nor science-blind,
Who welcome truths they did not seek;—
Truth comes to them in every wind.
Beside his tent’s still open door,
With open heart, and open eye,