Breasting that breeze which waves the bowers Of Heaven's bright forest never mute, Whereof perchance this earth of ours Is but the feeblest forest-fruit. "The Spirit bloweth where He wills"-- Effluence of that Life Divine Which wakes the Universe, and stills, In Thy strong refluence make us Thine! {117} _Coeli enarrant._ XXVIII. Sole Maker of the Worlds! They lay A barren blank, a void, a nought, Beyond the ken of solar ray Or reach of archangelic thought. Thou spak'st; and they were made! Forth sprang From every region of the abyss, Whose deeps, fire-clov'n, with anthems rang, The spheres new-born and numberless. Thou spak'st:--upon the winds were found The astonished Eagles. Awed and hushed Subsiding seas revered their bound; And the strong forests upward rushed. Before the Vision angels fell, As though the face of God they saw; And all the panting miracle Found rest within the arms of Law. {118} Perfect, O God, Thy primal plan-- That scheme frost-bound by Adam's sin: Create, within the heart of Man, Worlds meet for Thee; and dwell therein. From Thy bright realm of Sense and Nature, Which flowers enwreathe and stars begem, Shape Thou Thy Church; the crowned Creature; The Bride; the New Jerusalem! {119} _Caro factus est._ XXIX. When from beneath the Almighty Hand The suns and systems rushed abroad, Like coursers which have burst their band, Or torrents when the ice is thawed; When round in luminous orbits flung The great stars gloried in their might; Still, still, a bridgeless gulf there hung 'Twixt Finite things and Infinite. That crown of light creation wore Was edged with vast unmeasured black; And all of natural good she bore Confessed her supernatural lack. For what is Nature at the best? An arch suspended in its spring; An altar-step without a priest; A throne whereon there sits no king. {120} As one stone-blind that fronts the morn, The world before her Maker stood, Uplifting suppliant hands forlorn-- God's creature, yet how far from God! He came. That world His priestly robe; The Kingly Pontiff raised on high The worship of the starry globe:-- The gulf was bridged, and God was nigh. {121} XXX. A woman "clothed with the sun," [Footnote 8] Yet fleeing from the Dragon's rage!-- The strife in Eden-bowers begun Swells upward to the latest age. [Footnote 8: Rev. xii. 1.] That woman's Son is throned on high; The angelic hosts before Him bend: The sceptre of His empery Subdues the worlds from end to end. Yet still the sword goes through her heart, For still on earth His Church survives. In her that woman holds a part: In her she suffers, wakes, and strives. Around her head the stars are set; A dying moon beneath her wanes: But he that letteth still must let: The Power accurst awhile remains.