Song of the Mystic

I walk down the Valley of Silence --      Down the dim, voiceless valley -- alone!     And I hear not the fall of a footstep      Around me, save God's and my own;     And the hush of my heart is as holy      As hovers where angels have flown!     Long ago was I weary of voices      Whose music my heart could not win;     Long ago was I weary of noises      That fretted my soul with their din;     Long ago was I weary of places      Where I met but the human -- and sin.     I walked in the world with the worldly;      I craved what the world never gave;     And I said:    "In the world each Ideal,      That shines like a star on life's wave,     Is wrecked on the shores of the Real,      And sleeps like a dream in a grave."     And still did I pine for the Perfect,      And still found the False with the True;     I sought 'mid the Human for Heaven,      But caught a mere glimpse of its Blue:     And I wept when the clouds of the Mortal      Veiled even that glimpse from my view.     And I toiled on, heart-tired, of the Human,      And I moaned 'mid the mazes of men,     Till I knelt, long ago, at an altar      And I heard a voice call me.    Since then     I walk down the Valley of Silence      That lies far beyond mortal ken.     Do you ask what I found in the Valley?      'Tis my Trysting Place with the Divine.     And I fell at the feet of the Holy,      And above me a voice said:    "Be mine."     And there arose from the depths of my spirit      An echo -- "My heart shall be Thine."     Do you ask how I live in the Valley?      I weep -- and I dream -- and I pray.     But my tears are as sweet as the dewdrops      That fall on the roses in May;     And my prayer, like a perfume from censers,      Ascendeth to God night and day.     In the hush of the Valley of Silence      I dream all the songs that I sing;     And the music floats down the dim Valley,      Till each finds a word for a wing,     That to hearts, like the Dove of the Deluge,      A message of Peace they may bring.     But far on the deep there are billows      That never shall break on the beach;     And I have heard songs in the Silence      That never shall float into speech;     And I have had dreams in the Valley      Too lofty for language to reach.     And I have seen Thoughts in the Valley --      Ah! me, how my spirit was stirred!     And they wear holy veils on their faces,      Their footsteps can scarcely be heard;     They pass through the Valley like virgins,      Too pure for the touch of a word!     Do you ask me the place of the Valley,      Ye hearts that are harrowed by Care?     It lieth afar between mountains,      And God and His angels are there:     And one is the dark mount of Sorrow,      And one the bright mountain of Prayer.