Page:The poems of George Eliot (Crowell, 1884).djvu/480

442 Laboriously tracing what must be,

And what may yet be better—saw within

A worthier image for the sanctuary,

And shaped it forth before the multitude

Divinely human, raising worship so

To higher reverence more mixed with love—

That better self shall live till human Time

Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky

Be gathered like a scroll within the tomb

Unread forever.

This is life to come,

Which martyred men have made more glorious

For us who strive to follow. May I reach

That purest heaven, be to other souls

The cup of strength in some great agony,

Enkindle generous ardor, feed pure love,

Beget the smiles that have no cruelty—

Be the sweet presence of a good diffused,

And in diffusion ever more intense.

So shall I join the choir invisible

Whose music is the gladness of the world.

1867