World-wandering Saul! Was this thy symboling: 830 The Jew struck blind that Gentile hosts might see[23]? Predestined Israel, martyred, immolate[24], That nations, blood-besprent, might look and live; A burden-bearer for the universe, Outcast and homeless for humanity, Descending like his Lord all else below, And yet with Him to rise all else above, Extremes of woe and weal encompassing, Wisdom by sweet and bitter made more wise. From blight springs blessing, and from darkness day; 840 E'en Canaan's neck from 'neath the yoke[25] shall come. Japheth shall feel the Spirit minister, And Jacob see and hear his risen Lord[26]. Departed now the Woman Wonderful, Gone with the spirit gift and guiding power; O'ercome, world-conquered, sinks degenerate The washed one to his wallowing in the mire[27]; A drowsy dreamer of the self-same dreams Dispelled erewhile by lightnings of her eye; The heaven-lit torch[28] that made the pathway plain 850 O'er rugged mount, through mazy catacomb, Now dimmed with incense from Diana's shrine[29], And dashed in pieces 'gainst a pagan throne, Where prematurely changed was cross for crown, And Christ's flock fleeced by shearing compromise[30]. God still with man, though not with man's misrule; Still with the just, though Christian-pagan turn His prurient ear to fables, from the truth, And, virtueless as Judah's pharisee, And graceless as Iscariot, self-hung, 860 Parts in the midst, as wide as East from West[31], False church and faithless empire, faction-torn, Twain as the imaged legs of Babel's dream, A split colossus, fallen 'twixt Greece and Rome. God still with man, though not with man's misrule, Never with thee, daughter of force and fraud, Mother of guile--thy refuge and thy shame! Never with thee, thou wanton by the way, Roaming tradition's tangled wilderness, Lost in a night that seemeth to thee day; 870 In crooked paths that fain would straight appear; Warming thy withered fingers o'er the coals Alive 'mid ashes of the ancient fires, Where She was wont[32] to kindle faith, hope, love, And flash the beacon o'er a wandering world. There holding to thy heart an empty urn, There cherishing a name, a memory, Mumbling vain prayers, "Lord, Lord," protesting still, And still forgetful of thy Lord's command!