“Say ye, ‘The spirit of man has found new roads, And we must leave the old faiths, and walk therein’? Leave, then, the cross as ye have left carved gods, But guard the fire within! “Bright, else, and fast the stream of life may roll, And no man may the other’s hurt behold; Yet each will have one anguish,--his own soul Which perishes of cold.” Here let that voice make end; then let a strain From a far lonelier distance, like the wind Be heard, floating through heaven, and fill again These men’s profoundest mind:-- “Children of men! the unseen Power, whose eye Forever doth accompany mankind, Hath looked on no religion scornfully That men did ever find. “Which has not taught weak wills how much they can? Which has not fallen on the dry heart like rain? Which has not cried to sunk, self-weary man,-- _Thou must be born again!_ “Children of men! not that your age excel In pride of life the ages of your sires, But that _ye_ think clear, feel deep, bear fruit well, The Friend of man desires.” _REVOLUTIONS._ Before man parted for this earthly strand, While yet upon the verge of heaven he stood, God put a heap of letters in his hand, And bade him make with them what word he could. And man has turned them many times; made Greece, Rome, England, France; yes, nor in vain essayed Way after way, changes that never cease! The letters have combined, something was made. But ah! an inextinguishable sense Haunts him that he has not made what he should; That he has still, though old, to recommence, Since he has not yet found the word God would. And empire after empire, at their height Of sway, have felt this boding sense come on; Have felt their huge frames not constructed right, And drooped, and slowly died upon their throne. One day, thou say’st, there will at last appear The word, the order, which God meant should be. --Ah! we shall know _that_ well when it comes near; The band will quit man’s heart, he will breathe free. _SELF-DEPENDENCE._ Weary of myself, and sick of asking What I am, and what I ought to be, At this vessel’s prow I stand, which bears me Forwards, forwards, o’er the starlit sea. And a look of passionate desire O’er the sea and to the stars I send: “Ye who from my childhood up have calmed me, Calm me, ah, compose me to the end! Ah, once more,” I cried, “ye stars, ye waters, On my heart your mighty charm renew; Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you, Feel my soul becoming vast like you!” From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven, Over the lit sea’s unquiet way, In the rustling night-air came the answer,-- “Wouldst thou _be_ as these are? _Live_ as they.