THE SURE WITNESS.


 


THE solemn wood had spread


Shadows around my head;


"Curtains they are," I said,


"Hung dim and still about the house of prayer."


 


Softly among the limbs,


Turning the leaves of hymns,


I heard the winds, and asked if God were there.


No voice replied, but while I listening stood,


Sweet peace made holy hushes in the wood.


 


With ruddy, open hand,


I saw the wild rose stand


Beside the green gate of the summer hills;


And pulling at her dress,


I cried, "Sweet hermitess,


Hast thou beheld Him who the dew distills?"


 


No voice replied, but while I listening bent,


Her gracious beauty made my heart content.


The moon in splendor shone;


"She walketh heaven alone,


And seeth all things," to myself I mused;


"Hast thou beheld Him, then,


 


Who hides Himself from men


In that great power through nature interfused?"


No speech made answer, and no sign appeared,


But in the silence I was soothed and cheered.


Waking one time, strange awe


Thrilling my soul, I saw


 


A kingly splendor round about the night;


Such cunning work the hand


Of spinner never planned,-


The finest wool may not be washed so white.


"Hast thou come out of heaven?" I asked; and lo!


The snow was all the answer of the snow.


Then my heart said, "Give o'er;


Question no more, no more!


The wind, the snow-storm, the wild hermit flower,


The Illuminated air,


The pleasure after prayer,


Proclaim the unoriginated Power!"


 


Alice Cary.