Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/26

14 Before thy triple form they wondering bow, Maker, preserver, and destroyer, Thou! Thou, when a longing urged thee to create, Thy single form in twain didst separate; The Sire, the Mother that made all things be By their first union were but parts of Thee; From them the life that fills this earthly frame, And fruitful Nature, self-renewing, came. Thou countest not thy time by mortals' light. With Thee there is but one vast day and night; When slumbers fainting Nature dies, When wakens all again arise. Creator of the world—Thou uncreate! Endless! all things from Thee their end await; Before the world wast Thou!—each Lord shall fall Before Thee, mightiest, highest, Lord of all; Thy self-taught soul thine own deep spirit knows, Made by thyself thy mighty form arose; Into the same, when all things have their end. Shall thy great self, absorbed in Thee, descend; Lord, who may hope thy essence to declare? Firm, yet as subtile as the yielding air— Fixt, all-pervading; ponderous, yet light. Patent to all, yet hidden from the sight. Thine are the sacred hymns which mortals raise, Commencing ever with the word of praise. With three-toned chant to grace the sacrifice, And lead the worshipper to Paradise; They hail Thee Nature labouring to free The immortal Soul from low humanity— Hail Thee the stranger Spirit, unimpressed, Gazing on Nature from thy lofty rest.