| |
| BENEATH the full-eyed Syrian moon, | |
| The Patriarch, lost in reverence, raised | |
| His consecrated head, and soon | |
| He knelt and worshipped while he gazed: | |
| “Surely that glorious Orb on high | 5 |
| Must be the Lord of earth and sky.” | |
| |
| Slowly towards its central throne | |
| The glory rose, yet paused not there | |
| But seemed by influence not its own | |
| Drawn downwards through the western air | 10 |
| Until it wholly sunk away, | |
| And the soft Stars had all the sway. | |
| |
| Then to the hierarchy of light, | |
| With face upturned the sage remained— | |
| “At least Ye stand forever bright— | 15 |
| Your power has never waxed or waned!” | |
| Even while he spoke, their work was done | |
| Drowned in the overflowing Sun. | |
| |
| Eastward he bent his eager eyes— | |
| “Creatures of Night! false gods and frail! | 20 |
| Take not the worship of the wise; | |
| There is the Deity we hail. | |
| Fountain of light, and warmth, and love | |
| He only bears our hearts above.” | |
| |
| Yet was that One—that radiant One | 25 |
| Who seemed so absolute a King, | |
| Only ordained his round to run | |
| And pass like each created thing; | |
| He rested not in noonday prime | |
| But fell beneath the strength of time. | 30 |
| |
| Then like one laboring without hope | |
| To bring his toil to fruitful end, | |
| And powerless to discern the scope | |
| Whereto his aspirations tend, | |
| Still Abraham prayed day and night | 35 |
| “God! Teach me to what God to pray.” | |
| |
| Nor long in vain; an inward Light | |
| Arose to which the sun is pale. | |
| The knowledge of the Infinite, | |
| The sense of Truth that must prevail:— | 40 |
| The presence of the only Lord | |
| By angels and by men adored. | |
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