Canto CXXII
That which we dare invoke to bless;Our dearest faith, our ghastliest doubt;He, They, One, All; within, without;The Power in darkness whom we guess;
I found Him not in world or sun,Or eagle’s wing, or insect’s eye;Nor thro’ the questions men may try,The petty cobwebs we have spun:
If e’er when faith had fall’n asleep,I heard a voice ‘believe no more’And heard an ever-breaking shoreThat tumbled in the Godless deep;
A warmth within the breast would meltThe freezing reason’s colder part,And like a man in wrath the heartStood up and answer’d ‘I have felt.’
No, like a child in doubt and fear:But that blind clamour made me wise;Then was I as a child that cries,But, crying, knows his father near;
And what I seem beheld againWhat is, and no man understands;And out of darkness came the handsThat reach thro’ nature, moulding men.