God, God put it there,
A trumpet-note to every living soul,
A prophecy of all that is most fair
Through darkness to the goal.
I can not efface
The record of this wonder-working Word,
Nor in my memory but faintly trace
Stern voices I have heard.
Voices come by day
Between life's lightning-flash and thunder-peal,
And sooner heaven and earth shall pass away
Than what they there reveal.
Voices come at night
Amid the silence of deluding cares,
And pain flows through the darkness and grows bright,
And knowledge unawares.
Voices fill the strife
To which I give the beauty of my days,
And testify that sacrifice is life,
Availing prayer and praise.
Life retained is lost,
The tocsin of interminable war;
And life relinquished is of life the cost,
Which shineth as a star.
Tongue can never tell
God's revelations in this mighty Word,
Nor how the mystery of life they spell,
With which all hearts are stirred.
I continue mute,
In joyful awe before the Infinite,
Until at length eternity transmute
My darkness into light.
I can only speak
An earth-born language, that does not reveal
The infinitude of duty which I seek
To utter and but feel.
Duty! heart of joy!
Which giveth strength to suffer and endure,
Till self-forgetfulness in God's employ
Enthrones a life secure.
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