The lightened horror of this ignorance Whose shadow is chill fear, and cruelty Its bitter pastime. Yea, if one might save! And means must be! There must be refuge!" "Men Perished in winter-winds till one smote fire From flint-stones coldly hiding what they held, The red spark treasured from the kindling sun. They gorged on flesh like wolves, till one sowed corn, Which grew a weed, yet makes the life of man; They mowed and babbled till some tongue struck speech, And patient fingers framed the lettered sound. What good gift have my brothers but it came From search and strife and loving sacrifice? If one, then, being great and fortunate, Rich, dowered with health and ease, from birth designed To rule--if he would rule--a King of kings; If one, not tired with life's long day, but glad I' the freshness of its morning, one not cloyed With love's delicious feasts, but hungry still; If one not worn and wrinkled, sadly sage, But joyous in the glory and the grace That mix with evils here, and free to choose Earth's loveliest at his will: one even as I, Who ache not, lack not, grieve not, save with griefs Which are not mine, except as I am man;-- If such a one, having so much to give, Gave all, laying it down for love of men. And thenceforth spent himself to search for truth, Wringing the secret of deliverance forth, Whether it lurk in hells or hide in heavens, Or hover, unrevealed, nigh unto all: Surely at last, far off, sometime, somewhere, The veil would lift for his deep-searching eyes, The road would open for his painful feet, That should be won for which he lost the world, And Death might find him conqueror of death. This will I do, who have a realm to lose, Because I love my realm, because my heart Beats with each throb of all the hearts that ache, Known and unknown, these that are mine and those Which shall be mine, a thousand million more Saved by this sacrifice I offer now. Oh, summoning stars! Oh, mournful earth For thee and thine I lay aside my youth, My throne, my joys, my golden days, my nights, My happy palace--and thine arms, sweet Queen! Harder to put aside than all the rest! Yet thee, too, I shall save, saving this earth; And that which stirs within thy tender womb, My child, the hidden blossom of our loves, Whom if I wait to bless my mind will fail. Wife! child! father! and people! ye must share A little while the anguish of this hour That light may break and all flesh learn the Law. Now am I fixed, and now I will depart, Never to come again till what I seek Be found--if fervent search and strife avail."