Earth changes, but thy soul and God stand sure:
What entered into thee,

That was, is, and shall be:

Time's wheel runs back or stops: Potter and clay endure.

XXVIII.

He fixed thee mid this dance

Of plastic circumstance,

This Present, thou, forsooth, wouldst fain arrest:
Machinery just meant

To give thy soul its bent,

Try thee, and turn thee forth sufficiently impressed.

XXIX.

What though the earlier grooves

Which ran the laughing loves

Around thy base, no longer pause and press?

What though, about thy rim,

Skull-things in order grim

Grow out, in graver mood, obey the sterner stress?

XXX.

Look not thou down but up!

To uses of a cup,

The festal board, lamp's flash, and trumpet's peal,
The new wine's foaming flow,

The Master's lips aglow!

Thou, heaven's consummate cup, what needst thou with earth's wheel?

XXXI.

But I need, now as then,

Thee, God, who moldest men !

And since, not even while the whirl was worst,

Did I,--to the wheel of life

With shapes and colors rife,

Bound dizzily,--mistake my end, to slake Thy thirst:

XXXII.

So, take and use Thy work,

Amend what flaws may lurk,

What strain o' the stuff, what warpings past the aim! My times be in Thy hand!

Perfect the cup as planned!

Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same!

EPILOGUE.

FIRST SPEAKER, as

David.

I.

ON the first of the Feast of Feasts,
The Dedication Day,

When the Levites joined the priests
At the altar in robed array,
Gave signal to sound and say,-

II.

When the thousands, rear and van,
Swarming with one accord,
Became as a single man

(Look, gesture, thought, and word), In praising and thanking the Lord,

III.

When the singers lift up their voice,
And the trumpets made endeavor,
Sounding, "In God rejoice!"
Saying, "In Him rejoice
Whose mercy endureth forever!"

IV.

Then the Temple filled with a cloud,
Even the House of the Lord;

Porch bent and pillar bowed :

For the presence of the Lord,

In the glory of His cloud,

Had filled the House of the Lord.

SECOND SPEAKER, as Renan.

Gone now! All gone across the dark so far,
Sharpening fast, shuddering ever, shutting still,
Dwindling into the distance, dies that star

Which came, stood, opened once! We gazed our fill

With upturned faces on as real a Face

That, stooping from grave music and mild fire,

Took in our homage, made a visible place

Through many a depth of glory, gyre on gyre,
For the dim human tribute. Was this true?
Could man indeed avail, mere praise of his,
To help by rapture God's own rapture too,
Thrill with a heart's red tinge that pure pale bliss?
Why did it end? Who failed to beat the breast,

And shriek, and throw the arms protesting wide,
When a first shadow showed the star addressed
Itself to motion, and on either side

The rims contracted as the rays retired;
The music, like a fountain's sickening pulse,
Subsided on itself; a while transpired

Some vestige of a Face no pangs convulse,
No prayers retard; then even this was gone,
Lost in the night at last. We, lone and left
Silent through centuries, ever and anon

Venture to probe again the vault bereft Of all now save the lesser lights, a mist

Of multitudinous points, yet suns, men say— And this leaps ruby, this lurks amethyst,

But where may hide what came and loved our clay? How shall the sage detect in yon expanse

The star which chose to stoop and stay for us?
Unroll the records! Hailed ye such advance
Indeed, and did your hope evanish thus?
Watchers of twilight, is the worst averred?
We shall not look up, know ourselves are seen,
Speak, and be sure that we again are heard,
Acting or suffering, have the disk's serene
Reflect our life, absorb an earthly flame,

Nor doubt that, were mankind inert and numb,
Its core had never crimsoned all the same,
Nor, missing ours, its music fallen dumb?
Oh, dread succession to a dizzy post,

Sad sway of scepter whose mere touch appalls,
Ghastly dethronement, cursed by those the most
On whose repugnant brow the crown next falls!

THIRD SPEAKER.

I.

Witless alike of will and way divine,

How heaven's high with earth's low should interwine! Friends, I have seen through your eyes:. now use mine!

II.

Take the least man of all mankind, as I;

Look at his head and heart, find how and why

He differs from his fellows utterly:

III.

Then, like me, watch when nature by degrees
Grows alive round him, as in Arctic seas
(They said of old) the instinctive water flees

Toward some elected point of central rock,
As though, for its sake only, roamed the flock
Of waves about the waste a while they mock

V.

With radiance caught for the occasion,-hues
Of blackest hell now, now such reds and blues
As only heaven could fitly interfuse,-

VI.

The mimic monarch of the whirpool, king
O' the current for a minute: then they wring
Up by the roots and oversweep the thing,

VII.

And hasten off, to play again elsewhere
The same part, choose another peak as bare,
They find and flatter, feast and finish there.

VIII.

When you see what I tell you,-nature dance
About each man of us, retire, advance,
As though the pageant's end were to enhance

IX.

His worth, and-once the life, his product, gained-
Roll away elsewhere, keep the strife sustained,
And show thus real, a thing the North but feigned,—

X.

When you acknowledge that one world could do

All the diverse work, old yet ever new,

Divide us, each from other, me from you,

XI.

Why! where's the need of Temple, when the walls
O' the world are that? What use of swells and falls
From Levites' choir, priests' cries, and trumpet-calls?

XII.

That one Face, far from vanish, rather grows,

Or decomposes but to recompose,

Become my universe that feels and knows!

OH the old wall here! How I could pass
Life in a long midsummer day,

My feet confined to a plot of grass,
My eyes from a wall not once away!

II.