How the hot globes spun off into infinite darkness, as system by system,

The universe was wrought; and then I remember the birth of the sun,

How God cried: "Let there be light!" and, blinding, bewildering, exulting,

The great orb flamed from His furnace, and only the Creator stood upright.

In that hour I fell from His hand.

I am a breath from God's forge,

And, being a part of creation, I shall also be a part of the end.

He has told me that there shall come a day

When the Seventh Angel shall open his last vial of wrath in the mid-air,

And in that day I shall dance with the thunder, the lightning, and the earthquake,

And, dancing, hear His voice cry out from Heaven's temple: "It is done!"

[12]

[12]

VOICES.

 Earthquake.

I am a memory of cosmogony,

That first great hour of travail when the voice

Of God called suns and systems from the void;

I am the dream He dreams of that last day

When mountains by the roots shall be plucked up

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