Power

The mighty sound of forests murmuring 

In answer to the dread command; 

The stars that shudder when their king 

extends his hand, 

His awful hand to bless, to curse; or moves 

Toward the dimmest den 

In the thick leaves, not known of loves 

Or nymphs or men; 

(Only the sylph's frail gossamer may wave 

Their quiet frontage yet, 

Only her dewy tears may lave 

The violet

The mighty answer of the shaken sky 

To his supreme behest; the call 

Of Ibex that behold on high 

Night's funeral, 

And see the pale moon quiver and depart 

Far beyond space, the sun ascend 

And draw earth's globe unto his heart

To make an end; 

The shriek of startled birds; the sobs that tear 

With sudden terror the sharp sea 

That slept and wove its golden hair 

Most mournfully; 

The rending of the earth at his command 

Who wields the wrath of heaven, and is dumb; 

Hell starts up - and before his hand 

Is overcome. 

I heard these voices and beheld afar 

These dread works wrought at his behest: 

And on his forehead, lo! a star, 

And on his breast. 

And on his feet, I knew the sandals were 

More beautiful than flame, and white, 

And on the glory of his hair 

The crown of night. 

And I beheld his robe, and on its hem

Were writ unlawful words to say, 

Broidered like lilies, with a gem 

More clear than day. 

And round him shone so wonderful a light 

As when on Galilee 

Jesus once walked, and clove the night, 

And calmed the sea. 

I scarce could see his features for the fire 

That dwelt about his brow, 

Yet, for the whiteness of my own desire, 

I see him now; 

Because my footsteps follow his, and tread 

The awful bounds of heaven, and make 

The very graves yield up their dead, 

And high thrones shake; 

Because my eyes still steadily behold

And dazzle not, nor shun the night, 

The foam - born lamp of beaten gold 

And secret might; 

Because my forehead bears the sacred Name, 

And my lips bear the brand 

Of Him whose heaven is one flame, 

Whose holy hand 

Gathers this earth, who built the vaults of space, 

Moulded the stars, and fixed the iron sea, 

Because His love lights through my face 

And all of me. 

Because my hand may fasten on the sword 

Of my heart falter not, and smite 

Those lampless limits most abhorred 

Of iron night, 

And pass beyond their horror to attack

Fresh foemen, light and truth to bring 

Through their untrodden fields of black, 

A victor king. 

I know all must be well, all must be free; 

I know God as I know a friend;

I conquer, and most silently 

Await the end.