That which we dare invoke to bless;
 Our dearest faith; our ghastliest doubt;
 He, They, One, All; within, without;
 The Power in darkness whom we guess;
 I found Him not in world or sun,
 Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye;
 Nor thro' the questions men may try,
 The petty cobwebs we have spun:
 If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep,
 I heard a voice, "Believe no more,"
 And heard an ever-breaking shore
 That tumbled in the Godless deep,

 A warmth within the breast would melt
 The freezing reason's colder part,
 And like a man in wrath the heart
 Stood up and answer'd, "I have felt."

 No, like a child in doubt and fear:
 But that blind clamour made me wise;
 Then was I as a child that cries,
 But crying, knows his father near;

 And what I am beheld again
 What is, and no man understands;
 And out of darkness came the hands
 That reach thro' nature, moulding men.