Against the strength of Heaven tryThe valiant force of men who die;—With heaving heart where courage singsStrive with a mist of Light and Wings,And wrestle all night long, though pressedBe rib to rib and back to breast,Till in the end the lofty guestPant, "Conquering human, be thou blest."
As once they stood white-plumed and still,All unobserved on Dothan's hill,Now, too, the angels, stride for stride,Would march with us, but are denied.Did we but let our credence sproutAs we do mockery and doubt,Lord Christ Himself would stand revealedIn every barren, frosty fieldThat we misname the heart. BeliefIn something more than pain and grief,In only earth's most commonplace,Might yet illumine every faceOf wretchedness, every blinded eye,If from the hermitage where nighThese thousand years the world of menHas hemmed her in, might come againWith gracious eyes and gentle breathThe still unconquered Lady, Faith.
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