My Soul! Can this as truth abide, That in the light which beamed From riven tomb and manger-altar side I have but dreamed? Alas! Was there no Holy Child In Bethlehem's stable born? No sacrifice on Calvary's dark hillside, Nor Easter morn? Awake! God of our fathers, speak; Savior long-promised, come! Where shall we find the truth our spirits seek, If thou art dumb? Behold! Nature flows on apace, Unchanged and undisturbed; Science reveals each year a nobler grace; From Thee, no word. A-faint! We stagger towards the end; A close-locked door we meet; "Father," we call Thee, but we find no friend. O wandering feet! Woe! Woe! Passed is the faith of yore; Our graves yawn very nigh; And like the millions who have loved before, We only die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ALEXANDER THROCKMORTON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE MOUNTAIN WHIPPOORWILL (A GEORGIA ROMANCE) by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH SPEAKING TERMS by JAMES GALVIN |