"God! Where is my God? The long wave doth not rear Her ghostly crest to lick the forest up, And like a chief in battle fall,--not yet. The lightnings pour not down, from ragged holes In heaven, the torment of their forkéd tongues, And, like fell serpents, dart and sting,--not yet. The winds awake not, with their awful wings To winnow, even as chaff, from out their track, All that withstandeth, and bring down the pride Of all things strong and all things high-- "Not yet. O, let it not be yet. Where is my God? How am I saved, if I and mine be saved Alone? I am not saved, for I have loved My country and my kin. Must I, Thy thrall, Over their lands be lord when they are gone? I would not: spare them. Mighty. Spare Thyself, For Thou dost love them greatly,--and if not ..." Another praying unremote, a Voice Calm as the solitude between wide stars. "Where is my God, who loveth this lost world,-- Lost from its place and name, but won for Thee? Where is my multitude, my multitude, That I shall gather?" And white smoke went up From incense that was burning, but there gleamed No light of fire, save dimly to reveal The whiteness rising, as the prayer of him That mourned. "My God, appear for me, appear; Give me my multitude, for it is mine. The bitterness of death I have not feared, To-morrow shall Thy courts, O God, be full. Then shall the captive from his bonds go free, Then shall the thrall find rest, that knew not rest From labor and from blows. The sorrowful-- That said of joy, 'What is it?' and of songs, 'We have not heard them'--shall be glad and sing; Then shall the little ones that knew not Thee, And such as heard not of Thee, see Thy face, And seeing, dwell content." The prayer of Noah. He cried out in the darkness, "Hear, O God, Hear HIM: hear this one; through the gates of death, If life be all past praying for, O give To Thy great multitude a way to peace; Give them to HIM. "But yet," said he, "O yet, If there be respite for the terrible, The proud, yea, such as scorn Thee,--and if not.... Let not mine eyes behold their fall." He cried, "Forgive. I have not done Thy work, Great Judge, With a perfect heart; I have but half believed, While in accustomed language I have warned; And now there is no more to do, no place For my repentance, yea, no hour remains For doing of that work again. O, lost, Lost world!" And while he prayed, the daylight dawned. And Noah went up into the ship, and sat Before the Lord. And all was still; and now In that great quietness the sun came up, And there were marks across it, as it were The shadow of a Hand upon the sun,-- Three fingers dark and dread, and afterward There rose a white, thick mist, that peacefully Folded the fair earth in her funeral shroud, The earth that gave no token, save that now There fell a little trembling under foot.