| SOULS there be to whom ’tis given | |
| Easily to enter heaven; | |
| Scarce an effort on their part, | |
| Without struggle, prayer, or art; | |
| Sometimes utterly unknowing | 5 |
| Why such glory should be showing; | |
| Wondering what the reason is | |
| Of the inflaming ecstasies | |
| That Christ giveth unto His. | |
| |
| Often they, not understanding, | 10 |
| Catch a rarer light expanding; | |
| Doing but their daily task, | |
| Falls away some filmy mask, | |
| And before their eyes extended | |
| Heaven with earth is interblended; | 15 |
| And beyond this outward strife | |
| They see what hidden peace is rife | |
| In God’s great reservoirs of life. | |
| |
| Some in that rapt state elysian | |
| Are accorded richer vision; | 20 |
| Watch the thronging angels pass | |
| To a high celestial Mass; | |
| See a veilèd, flaming Centre, | |
| See a Great High Priest there enter, | |
| Whence a Host he lifteth up | 25 |
| And a crimson-brimming Cup, | |
| Which He bids all eat and sup. | |
| |
| Or a day falls, past relating, | |
| When a Dove, divinely mating, | |
| Stirs the sheltering leaves apart | 30 |
| O’er some deeply-nested heart; | |
| And, Himself within interning, | |
| Lo! the very bush is burning | |
| With the blazonry of love | |
| Of that far-descended Dove | 35 |
| In His bridal-mate’s alcove. | |
| |
| Such things simple souls and holy | |
| Often know, whilst men less lowly | |
| Beat the breast and bend the brain | |
| In their labour to attain; | 40 |
| Till from heaven, tired of crying, | |
| They will turn, all heaven denying; | |
| Seeking ways of lesser bliss | |
| Which, in His large Mysteries, | |
| Christ denieth not to His. | 45 |
| |
| Let not me, who have no mission | |
| Yet to see the shining Vision, | |
| E’er forget that night and day | |
| Are His strange vicarious way; | |
| He by one prepares the other, | 50 |
| Glooming me to light my brother. | |
| May I ever blinded be | |
| If my disability | |
| Help my fellow-man to see. | |
| |
| In this night of my unknowing | 55 |
| His symbol-light shall be my showing. | |
| I’ll know that at the rise of sun | |
| High Mass, for all, in heaven’s begun; | |
| That when at noon-tide height it lingers | |
| Christ lifts the Host in His pierc’d fingers; | 60 |
| And at its setting it shall tell | |
| How He descendeth, loving well, | |
| Even to me, His child in hell. | |
