In Quest

Have I not voyaged, friend beloved, with thee     On the great waters of the unsounded sea,     Momently listening with suspended oar     For the low rote of waves upon a shore     Changeless as heaven, where never fog-cloud drifts     Over its windless wood, nor mirage lifts     The steadfast hills; where never birds of doubt     Sing to mislead, and every dream dies out,     And the dark riddles which perplex us here     In the sharp solvent of its light are clear?     Thou knowest how vain our quest; how, soon or late,     The baffling tides and circles of debate     Swept back our bark unto its starting-place,     Where, looking forth upon the blank, gray space,     And round about us seeing, with sad eyes,     The same old difficult hills and cloud-cold skies,     We said: "This outward search availeth not     To find Him. He is farther than we thought,     Or, haply, nearer. To this very spot     Whereon we wait, this commonplace of home,     As to the well of Jacob, He may come     And tell us all things." As I listened there,     Through the expectant silences of prayer,     Somewhat I seemed to hear, which hath to me     Been hope, strength, comfort, and I give it thee.     "The riddle of the world is understood     Only by him who feels that God is good,     As only he can feel who makes his love     The ladder of his faith, and climbs above     On th' rounds of his best instincts; draws no line     Between mere human goodness and divine,     But, judging God by what in him is best,     With a child's trust leans on a Father's breast,     And hears unmoved the old creeds babble still     Of kingly power and dread caprice of will,     Chary of blessing, prodigal of curse,     The pitiless doomsman of the universe.     Can Hatred ask for love? Can Selfishness     Invite to self-denial? Is He less     Than man in kindly dealing? Can He break     His own great law of fatherhood, forsake     And curse His children? Not for earth and heaven     Can separate tables of the law be given.     No rule can bind which He himself denies;     The truths of time are not eternal lies."     So heard I; and the chaos round me spread     To light and order grew; and, "Lord," I said,     "Our sins are our tormentors, worst of all     Felt in distrustful shame that dares not call     Upon Thee as our Father. We have set     A strange god up, but Thou remainest yet.     All that I feel of pity Thou hast known     Before I was; my best is all Thy own.     From Thy great heart of goodness mine but drew     Wishes and prayers; but Thou, O Lord, wilt do,     In Thy own time, by ways I cannot see,     All that I feel when I am nearest Thee!