"We live in succession, in division, in parts, in particles. Meantime, within man is the soul of the whole; the wise silence; the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related; the eternal ONE. And this deep power in which we exist, and whose beatitude is all accessible to us, is not only self-sufficing and perfect in every hour, but the act of seeing and the thing seen, the seer and the spectacle, the subject and the object, are one." "All the forms are fugitive, But the substances survive; Ever fresh the broad creation-- A divine improvisation, From the heart of God proceeds, A single will, a million deeds. Once slept the world an egg of stone, And pulse and sound, and light was none; And God said 'Throb,' and there was motion, And the vast mass became vast ocean. Onward and on, the eternal Pan, Who layeth the world's incessant plan, Halteth never in one shape, But forever doth escape, Like wave or flame, into new forms Of gem and air, of plants and worms. I that to-day am a pine, Yesterday was a bundle of grass. He is free and libertine, Pouring of his power, the wine To every age--to every race; Unto every race and age He emptieth the beverage; Unto each and unto all-- Maker and original. The world is the ring of his spells, And the play of his miracles. As he giveth to all to drink, Thus or thus they are, and think. He giveth little, or giveth much, To make them several, or such. With one drop sheds form and feature; With the second a special nature; The third adds heat's indulgent spark; The fourth gives light, which eats the dark; In the fifth drop himself he flings, And conscious Law is King of kings. Pleaseth him, the Eternal Child To play his sweet will--glad and wild. As the bee through the garden ranges, From world to world the godhead changes; As the sheep go feeding in the waste, From form to form he maketh haste. This vault, which glows immense with light, Is the inn, where he lodges for a night. What recks such Traveller, if the bowers Which bloom and fade, like meadow flowers-- A bunch of fragrant lilies be, Or the stars of eternity? Alike to him, the better, the worse-- The glowing angel, the outcast corse. Thou meetest him by centuries, And lo! he passes like the breeze; Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy, He hides in pure transparency; Thou askest in fountains, and in fires, He is the essence that inquires. He is the axis of the star; He is the sparkle of the spar; He is the heart of every creature; He is the meaning of each feature; And his mind is the sky, Than all it holds, more deep, more high."