Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/497

Rh The old lament be heard, “Great Pan is dead!” That wail is Error’s, from his high place hurled;
 * This sharp recoil is Evil undertrod;
 * Our time’s unrest, an angel sent of God

Troubling with life the waters of the world. Even as they list the winds of the Spirit blow
 * To turn or break our century-rusted vanes;
 * Sands shift and waste; the rock alone remains

Where, led of Heaven, the strong tides come and go, And storm-clouds, rent by thunderbolt and wind, Leave, free of mist, the permanent stars behind.

Therefore I trust, although to outward sense
 * Both true and false seem shaken; I will hold
 * With newer light my reverence for the old

And calmly wait the births of Providence. No gain is lost; the clear-eyed saints look down
 * Untroubled on the wreck of schemes and creeds;
 * Love yet remains, its rosary of good deeds

Counting in task-field and o’erpeopled town. Truth has charmed life; the Inward Word survives,
 * And, day by day, its revelation brings;
 * Faith, hope, and charity, whatsoever things

Which cannot be shaken, stand. Still holy lives Reveal the Christ of whom the letter told, And the new gospel verifies the old.

“And I went into the Vale of Beavor, and as I went I preached repentance to the people. And one morning sitting by the fire, a great cloud came over me, and a temptation beset me. And it was said: All things come by Nature; and the Elements and the Stars came over me. And as I sat still and let it alone, a living