Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/380

358 That flesh can know is theirs—the consciousness

Of Whom they are, habitually infused

Through every image and through every thought,

And all affections by communion raised

From earth to heaven, from human to divine;

Hence endless occupation for the Soul,

Whether discursive or intuitive;

Hence cheerfulness for acts of daily life,

Emotions which best foresight need not fear,

Most worthy then of trust when most intense.

Hence, amid ills that vex and wrongs that crush

Our hearts—if here the words of Holy Writ

May with fit reverence be applied—that peace

Which passeth understanding, that repose

In moral judgments which from this pure source

Must come, or will by man be sought in vain.

Oh! who is he that hath his whole life long

Preserved, enlarged, this freedom in himself?

For this alone is genuine liberty:

Where is the favoured being who hath held

That course unchecked, unerring, and untired,

In one perpetual progress smooth and bright?—

A humbler destiny have we retraced,

And told of lapse and hesitating choice,