THE pith of faith is gone. And as there lie Along the desert shanks of lions slain, So in this world whose weeds are grown so high, Half-hid, half-seen, Faith moulders on the plain! Tenderly take the priceless, wondrous bones, And wend away from all that plucks thy dress, And with a few chance boughs or scattered stones Build up thine altar, Child of loneliness. The Master is not only in the court Where doves are sold and money-changers cry; Nor will He leave the countryside untaught If ears be open as He passes by: In secret paths that thread the forest-land He waits to heal thee and divinely bless; While from the hill with voice and waving hand The Shepherd calls thee, Child of loneliness. He pours in oil and wine to soothe thy wound, He fills thy heart with secret sympathies; Nowhere so barren is thy patch of ground, Nowhere so fruitless are thy cherry-trees, But He will leave the lustre of a shrine, But He will hasten at thy cry of stress, And make thy burden His, His comfort thine, His face to smile, thou Child of loneliness. But be thou faithful to thine altar set Within the temple of the stilly glade, For Christ is there, Whose heart will not forget The striving of thy soul. Be not afraid! O priest and people mingled into one, Within thy green cathedral-aisles no less He stands above thee when, thy prayer begun, Thou callest Him, O Child of loneliness. 'Tis sweet where every downy throat's a well Of song itself to worship in the grass, Thine altar's base fast-founded on a swell Anear a glade where elms and beeches mass: There is a space for breath, and there, content, If aught should be forgiven, kneel, confess; Over thy head the boundless firmament, God's love, God's wisdom, Child of loneliness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STANZAS TO THE PO by GEORGE GORDON BYRON FORERUNNERS by RALPH WALDO EMERSON VERSES ON SEEING THE SPEAKER ASLEEP IN HIS CHAIR by WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED SONGS OF TRAVEL: 46. EVENSONG by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON AN EARNEST SUIT [TO HIS UNKIND MISTRESS NOT TO FORESAKE HIM] by THOMAS WYATT THE HYMNARY: 403. MARTYRS by ADAM OF SAINT VICTOR |