THE VILLAGE LIGHTS.
71
I hold
That if it be
Less than enough to any soul to know
Itself immortal, immortality
In all its boundless spaces will not find
A place designed
So small, so low,
That to a fitting home such soul can go.
Out to the earthward brink
Of that great tideless sea
Light from Christ's garments streams.
Cowards who fear to tread such beams
The angels can but pity when they sink.
Believing thus, I joy although I lie in dust.
I joy, not that I ask or choose,
But simply that I must.
I love and fear not; and I cannot lose,
One instant, this great certainty of peace.
Long as God ceases not, I cannot cease;
I must arise.
That if it be
Less than enough to any soul to know
Itself immortal, immortality
In all its boundless spaces will not find
A place designed
So small, so low,
That to a fitting home such soul can go.
Out to the earthward brink
Of that great tideless sea
Light from Christ's garments streams.
Cowards who fear to tread such beams
The angels can but pity when they sink.
Believing thus, I joy although I lie in dust.
I joy, not that I ask or choose,
But simply that I must.
I love and fear not; and I cannot lose,
One instant, this great certainty of peace.
Long as God ceases not, I cannot cease;
I must arise.
THE VILLAGE LIGHTS.
NLY a little village street,Lying along a mountain's side;
Only the silences which meet
When weary hands and weary feet
By night's sweet rest are satisfied;
Only the dark of summer nights;
Only the commonest of sights,
The glimmer of the village lights!
