Power that saves and sways, compelling

Souls that ebb and flow like tides,

Shone or seemed to shine and swim

Through the cloud-surf great and grim,

Thought's live surge, the soul of him

By whose light the sun looks dim.

[Pg 154]

In what synod were they sitting,

All the gods and lords of time,

Whence they watched as fen-fires flitting

Years and names of men sublime,

When their counsels found it fitting

One should stand where none might climb—

None of man begotten, none

Born of men beneath the sun

Till the race of time be run,

Save this heaven-enfranchised one?

With what rapture of creation

Was the soul supernal thrilled,

With what pride of adoration

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