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CRUCE AND CORONA.
This birth of intellect for man, than nowThey doubt His heart-regenerating pow'r.
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God is the Holy. So is He the True,The Source of all the everlasting truthsTowards which all science, knowing it or not,Doth climb, and must forever climb, nor restUntil at last it sees them face to face.God is the Beautiful; for which the soulWithin its inmost depths doth ever long;The Real of the great Ideal,—God.The intellect, the heart cry out for God.He is the all in all of human thought,He is the all in all of human love,And thought and love at last in Him shall rest.The pow'r to reach the holy, unto manIs given by the cross. So is the pow'rTo reach the beautiful, to reach the true.And thus, O Father, may thy kingdom come!
Though with new panoplies of strength her soulDoth from this trial come, as burnished goldDoth from its crucible come forth, yet stillThe anguish of those watchings on the deep,The grief of loss, and, last nor least in pow'r,This intellectual trial, not in vain
