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"And I went into the Vale of Beavor, and as I went I preached
repentance to the people. And one morning, sitting by the fire, a
great cloud came over me, and a temptation beset me. And it was said:
All things come by Nature; and the Elements and the Stars came over
me. And as I sat still and let it alone, a living hope arose in me,
and a true Voice which said: There is a living God who made all
things. And immediately the cloud and the temptation vanished, and
Life rose over all, and my heart was glad and I praised the Living
God."
-- Journal of George Fox, 1690.
Still, as of old, in Beavor's Vale,
O man of God! our hope and faith
The Elements and Stars assail,
And the awed spirit holds its breath,
Blown over by a wind of death.
Takes Nature thought for such as we,
What place her human atom fills,
The weed-drift of her careless sea,
The mist on her unheeding hills?
What recks she of our helpless wills?
Strange god of Force, with fear, not love,
Its trembling worshipper! Can prayer
Reach the shut ear of Fate, or move
Unpitying Energy to spare?
What doth the cosmic Vastness care?
In vain to this dread Unconcern
For the All-Father's love we look;
In vain, in quest for it, we turn,
The storied leaves of Nature's book
The prints her rocky tablets took.
I pray for faith, I long to trust;
I listen with my heart, and hear
A Voice without a sound: "Be just,
Be true, Be merciful, revere
The Word within thee: God is near!
"A light to sky and earth unknown
pales all their lights: a mightier force
than theirs the powers of Nature own,
And, to its goal as at its source,
His Spirit moves the Universe.
"Believe and trust. Through stars and suns,
Through life and death, through soul and sense,
His wise, paternal purpose runs;
The darkness of his providence
Is star-lit with benign intents."
O joy supreme! I know the Voice,
Like none beside on earth or sea;
Yea, more, O soul of mine, rejoice,
By all that he requires of me,
I know what god himself must be.
No picture to my aid I call,
I shape no image in my prayer;
I only know in Him is all
Of life, light, beauty, everywhere,
Eternal Goodness here and there!
I know He is, and what He is,
Whose one great purpose is the good
Of all. I rest my soul on his
Immortal Love and Fatherhood;
And trust Him, as his children should.
I fear no more. The clouded face
Of Nature smiles; through all her things
Of time and space and sense I trace
The moving of the Spirit's wings,
And hear the song of hope she sings.
O Friends! with whom my feet have trod
The quiet aisles of prayer,
Glad witness to your zeal for God
And love of man I bear.
I trace your lines of argument;
Your logic linked and strong
I weigh as one who dreads dissent,
And fears a doubt as wrong.
But still my human hands are weak
to hold your iron creeds:
Against the words ye bid me speak
My heart within me pleads.
Who fathoms the Eternal Thought?
Who talks of scheme and plan?
The Lord is God! He needeth not
The poor device of man.
I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground
Ye tread with boldness shod;
I dare not fix with mete and bound
The love and power of God.
Ye praise his justice; even such
His pitying love I deem:
Ye seek a king; I fain would touch
The robe that hath no seam.
Ye see the curse which overbroods
A world of pain and loss;
I hear our Lord's beatitudes
And prayer upon the cross.
(A campaign song for the 1860 election, in which Pennsylvania voted
earlier than other states, and Lincoln supporters won, with solid
Quaker voting support.)
Not vainly we waited and counted the hours,
The buds of our hope have all burst into flowers.
No room for misgiving--no loop-hole of doubt,--
we've heard from the Keystone! The Quakers are out!
The plot has exploded--we've found out the trick;
The bribe goes a-begging; the fusionn won't stick.
When the Wide-awake lanterns are shining about,
The rogues stay at home, and the true men are out!
The good State has broken the cords for her spun;
Her oil-springs and water won't fuse into one;
The Dutchman has seasoned with Freedom his krout,
And slow, late, but certain, the Quakers are out!
Give the flags to the winds! set the hills all aflame!
Make way for the man with the Patriarch's name!
Away with misgivings--away with all doubt,
For Lincoln goes in when the Quakers are out! |
