Tell how, as Moses on the unknown mount[16], From whom in rage fled baffled Lucifer, Who fain had guised him as the Son of God, To win the worship of that prophet pure-- 1220 Tell how with gloom he strove ere glory dawned, And black despair met bright deliverance. Tell how in heart of that sweet solitude, Within the silent grove, sequestered shade, While spirit hosts unseen spectators stood, Watching the simple scene's sublimity, Eternity high converse held with time; Time, parent of the hovering centuries, Mother of dispensations, travailing, And bringing forth her last and mightiest child; 1230 Heaven's awful Sire, through Him both Sire and Son, There blazoning the beginning of the end. Wane the swift years; the boy a youth now grown; And on his brow, woe-carved, a world of care. Bending, an Atlas,[17] 'neath the titan's load, Daily he climbs the hill of sacrifice, Viewing from far the mount of martyrdom. Nor marvel at his lot; hath he not told-- A crime man ne'er forgave in fellowman-- Told the wise world that God hath spoke again? 1240 "'Twas from below!" Thus bigotry in rage. "Nay, from above," the meek though firm reply. "No vision is there now--the time is past." "But I have seen," affirms truth's constancy. "God is a mystery, unknowable." "God is a man--I saw Him, talked with Him." "Man?" "Ay, of holiness--Exalted Man[18]." A strife of words, of warring tongues, now waged, And weapons vied with words the truth to slay; Nor truth alone, but her brave oracle, 1250 A boy, by men, by neighborhoods, oppressed. Still through his soul the solemn warning rang, Still from his mouth the startling message flamed: "No church the Christ's. None, therefore, can I join. All sects and creeds have wandered from the way. Priestcraft in lieu of Priesthood sits enthroned. Dead forms deny the power of godliness. Men worship with their lips, their hearts afar. None serve acceptably in sight of heaven. Wherefore a work of wonder shall be wrought, 1260 And perish all the wisdom of the wise[19]." The wrangling sects forgave--well nigh forgot Their former feuds and fears and jealousies; And, joining hands, as Pilate Herod joined, One guilty day when God stood man-condemned, In friendly reconcilement's cordial clasp, They doomed to death and hell "this heresy." None sought, from "Satan's wile," a soul's reclaim, But all were bent his humble name to blast; And pious, would-be murder led the van 1270 Of common hatred and hostility. But Truth, thou mother of the living thought, The deathless word, the everduring deed! What puny hand thy giant arm can stay? When crushed or backward held, thine hour beyond? Can bigot frown or tyrant fetter quell Thy high revolt, O Light Omnipotent! When God would speak with man, who tells Him nay? Can hell prevent when heaven on earth would smile?