Poems (Blake)/The Spirit turns to Thee

by Mary Elizabeth Blake

THE SPIRIT TURNS TO THEE.

    To Thee, my God, to Thee,
The soul that Thou hast wakened from the dust
Rises, with all the might of faith and trust,
    Whether on land or sea.

    To Thee, my God, to Thee,
The deathless essence which Thy hand hath given
To image forth on earth Thy face in heaven,
    Will spread its wings and flee!

    Though other beacons shine,
Though earthly pleasures woo the passing guest,
One gift alone can make the spirit blest,—
    Thy love, Thy joy divine.

    When, at the lightest call,
The joyous chords of life in union blend,
It waits until Thy presence comes to lend
    The sweetest tone of all.

    And when, in grief and pain,
The anchors of its earthly trust are riven,
It looks beyond the pearly gates of heaven
    To find its rest again.

    For Thee, my God, alone,
The waiting soul with deathless longing burns,
And through the mist of distance fondly turns
    To where Thy light is shown.

    With Thee its pulses chime,
Like the deep swell of that eternal sea
Which pours the waters of Eternity
    Against the shores of Time.

    Less than Thyself, no aim
Can guide its wayward groping for the light,
Can quench its longing for the Infinite,
    Can win its purest fame,—

    For it is all Thine own;
The image of Thy majesty and love,
The essence of Thine altar fires above,
    Which burns for Thee alone,—

    And turns to seek Thy feet
Beyond all earthly joy or earthly strife,
Beyond the passing weal or woe of life,
    Through vict'ry or defeat;—

    Beyond the land and sea,
Beyond earth's idols shattered in the dust,
It rises on the wings of hope and trust
    To Thee, my God, to Thee!