O, this strange mingling in of Life and Death, Of Soul and Substance! Let me comprehend The hidden secret of life’s fleeting breath, My being’s destiny, its aim and end. Show me the impetus that urged me forth, Upon my lone and burning pathway driven; The secret force that binds me down to earth, While my sad spirit yearns for home and heaven-- Hear me, O God! my God! The ruby life-drops from my heart are wrung, By the deep conflict of my soul in prayer; The words lie burning on my feeble tongue; Aid me, O Father! let me not despair. Save, Lord! I perish! Save me, ere I die! My rebel spirit mocks at thy control-- The raging billows rise to drown my cry; The floods of anguish overwhelm my soul-- Hear me, O God! my God! Peace! peace! O, wilful, wayward heart, be still! For, lo! the messenger of God is near; Bow down submissive to the Father’s will, In “perfect love” that “casteth out all fear.” O, pitying Spirit from the home above! No longer shall my chastened heart rebel; Fold me, O fold me in thine arms of love! I know my Father “doeth all things well;” I will not doubt his changeless love again. Amen! My heart repeats, Amen! THE SONG OF TRUTH. From the unseen throne of the Great Unknown, From the Soul of All, I came; Not with the rock of the earthquake’s shock, And not with the wasting flame. But silent and deep is my onward sweep, Through the depths of the boundless sky; I stand sublime, through the lapse of time, And where God is, there am I. In the early years, when the youthful spheres, From the depths of Chaos sprung, When the heavens grew bright with the new-born light, And the stars in chorus sung-- To that holy sound, through the space profound, ’Mid their glittering ranks I trod; For I am a part of the Central Heart, Co-equal and one with God. The world is my child. Though wilful and wild, Yet I know that she loves me still, For she thinks I fled with her holy dead, Because of her stubborn will; And she weeps at night, when the angels light Their watch-fires over the sky, Like a maid o’er the grave of her loved and brave; But the Truth can never die. One by one, like sparks _from_ the sun, I have counted the souls that came From the hand Divine;--all, all are mine, And I call them by my name. One by one, like sparks _to_ the sun, I shall see them all return; Though tempest-tost, yet they are not lost, And not one shall cease to burn.