Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/398

364 Then thou dost not believe? This sayest thou?

Sweet love, mistake not what I utter now! Who knows his name? Who dares proclaim: Him I believe? Who so can feel His heart to steel To say: I believe Him not? The All-Embracer, The All-Sustainer, Holds and sustains He not Thee, me, Himself? Hang not the heavens their arch o'erhead? Lies not the earth beneath us, firm? Gleam not with kindly glances Eternal stars on high? Looks not mine eye deep into thine? And do not all things Crowd on thy head and heart, And around thee twine, in mystery eterne, Invisible, yet visible? Fill, then, thy heart, however vast, with this, And when the feeling perfecteth thy bliss, Oh, call it what thou wilt, Call it joy! heart! love! God! No name for it I know! 'Tis feeling all—nought else; Name is but sound and smoke, Obscuring heaven's bright glow.