Memoria beata .. . Her (_ourt a pri.«on and her frown—of tliorns,Iler path, the path b^ anguished martyrs trot!; Still she proclaims, instraets and comforts, warns,Ami at her altar serves the most high God: For God at His right hand holds Absolute TruthAnd nearest lies His gritt, that Truth to search. And we must seek, thro blood and tea,rs in blinded gropings, thro all Creed and Churrh, Nor end the search while yet Earth-bound we dwellAnd in that search our finite own; Her awful splendors mortals may not tell:Truth Absolute, O God, is Thine alone! Eternity itself is not t
Memoria beata .. . Her (_ourt a pri.«on and her frown—of tliorns,Iler path, the path b^ anguished martyrs trot!; Still she proclaims, instraets and comforts, warns,Ami at her altar serves the most high God: For God at His right hand holds Absolute TruthAnd nearest lies His gritt, that Truth to search. And we must seek, thro blood and tea,rs in blinded gropings, thro all Creed and Churrh, Nor end the search while yet Earth-bound we dwellAnd in that search our finite own; Her awful splendors mortals may not tell:Truth Absolute, O God, is Thine alone! Eternity itself is not too longFor our yoixng souls to reach their perfect growth. To learn in schools of suffering to be strongAnd make us living lights of perfect Truth. O thou, who reached the land of Faiths sweet restThro Doubts dark road and waters of Despair, How shall I reach that country ever blestTn the calm regions of the upper air?. I cannot pray, I have no life, no thought,Kaught but one wish to tell me that I live-To see thy face, could that dear boon be Ijought^ly hope of Heaven I would gladly give IV. Yet tis but Hope that whispers to our trust,Tho faltering Reason may not give assent, Something remains beyond the fleeting dustWhen the short fever of our life is spent; Something too great for Earths contracted stageToo large to write its final record here. Needing another world, a wider age,A longer lesson and a nobler sphere; The soul must heed the law of growth divineWhile the frail body mingles with the sod Till inward Truth, and Grace, its outward sign,Stamps it the image of its Maker—God. —A faltering hope, close mingled with despairA faltering hope with heaviest fear alloyed That all my cry falls on the empty al! that other world is soundless void;
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Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookpublishernp, bookyear1903
