The Eternal Goodness

O Friends! with whom my feet have trod     The quiet aisles of prayer,     Glad witness to your zeal for God     And love of man I bear.     I trace your lines of argument;     Your logic linked and strong     I weigh as one who dreads dissent,     And fears a doubt as wrong.     But still my human hands are weak     To hold your iron creeds:     Against the words ye bid me speak     My heart within me pleads.     Who fathoms the Eternal Thought?     Who talks of scheme and plan?     The Lord is God! He needeth not     The poor device of man.     I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground     Ye tread with boldness shod;     I dare not fix with mete and bound     The love and power of God.     Ye praise His justice; even such     His pitying love I deem:     Ye seek a king; I fain would touch     The robe that hath no seam.     Ye see the curse which overbroods     A world of pain and loss;     I hear our Lord's beatitudes     And prayer upon the cross.     More than your schoolmen teach, within     Myself, alas! I know:     Too dark ye cannot paint the sin,     Too small the merit show.     I bow my forehead to the dust,     I veil mine eyes for shame,     And urge, in trembling self-distrust,     A prayer without a claim.     I see the wrong that round me lies,     I feel the guilt within;     I hear, with groan and travail-cries,     The world confess its sin.     Yet, in the maddening maze of things,     And tossed by storm and flood,     To one fixed trust my spirit clings;     I know that God is good!     Not mine to look where cherubim     And seraphs may not see,     But nothing can be good in Him     Which evil is in me.     The wrong that pains my soul below     I dare not throne above,     I know not of His hate, I know     His goodness and His love.     I dimly guess from blessings known     Of greater out of sight,     And, with the chastened Psalmist, own     His judgments too are right.     I long for household voices gone.     For vanished smiles I long,     But God hath led my dear ones on,     And He can do no wrong.     I know not what the future hath     Of marvel or surprise,     Assured alone that life and death     His mercy underlies.     And if my heart and flesh are weak     To bear an untried pain,     The bruised reed He will not break,     But strengthen and sustain.     No offering of my own I have,     Nor works my faith to prove;     I can but give the gifts He gave,     And plead His love for love.     And so beside the Silent Sea     I wait the muffled oar;     No harm from Him can come to me     On ocean or on shore.     I know not where His islands lift     Their fronded palms in air;     I only know I cannot drift     Beyond His love and care.     O brothers! if my faith is vain,     If hopes like these betray,     Pray for me that my feet may gain     The sure and safer way.     And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen     Thy creatures as they be,     Forgive me if too close I lean     My human heart on Thee