A MYSTERY.
Not till our utter helplessness,
We own, and deeply mourn;
In human hearts are holy strength,
And faith's bright day-star born.
We own, and deeply mourn;
In human hearts are holy strength,
And faith's bright day-star born.
In vain the wise and prudent seek
The riddle to unfold—
How weakness can o'er might prevail,
And feeblest ones wax bold.
The riddle to unfold—
How weakness can o'er might prevail,
And feeblest ones wax bold.
How giant errors flee, and fall,
And vanish one by one;
When in the name of Truth and Right,
A strong hand hurls the stone.
And vanish one by one;
When in the name of Truth and Right,
A strong hand hurls the stone.
O grand and solemn mystery
Of flowing rock, and budding rod—
In vain we seek your depths to sound,
O secret things of God!
Of flowing rock, and budding rod—
In vain we seek your depths to sound,
O secret things of God!
