Since thou who turned crooked path to straight Made rough place smooth, And on the altar of whose soul burned The pure white flame of faith,— Since thou hast gone down that road Of silence and of shadow, It holds for me no longer any terror, any dread, Nor does it lead to nothingness and void ... For though I cannot image thee In lands that lie afar, Yet, in sunsets, sometimes, At the noonday, sometimes, In the hurry of the street, Thou art a presence with me, And that other world becomes more real than this. So, with thy love a lamp to guide me, Let me keep straight on way thy feet Have made familiar, Till I have passed the silent gates, There to be found of thee. |