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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420710" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Hermit of Thebaid</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O strong, upwelling prayers of faith,<br>From inmost founts of life ye start,-<br>The spirit's pulse, the vital breath<br>Of soul and heart!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From pastoral toil, from traffic's din,<br>Alone, in crowds, at home, abroad,<br>Unheard of man, ye enter in<br>The ear of God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye brook no forced and measured tasks,<br>Nor weary rote, nor formal chains;<br>The simple heart, that freely asks<br>In love, obtains.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For man the living temple is<br>The mercy-seat and cherubim,<br>And all the holy mysteries,<br>He bears with him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And most avails the prayer of love,<br>Which, wordless, shapes itself in needs,<br>And wearies Heaven for naught above<br>Our common needs.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which brings to God's all-perfect will<br>That trust of His undoubting child<br>Whereby all seeming good and ill<br>Are reconciled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And, seeking not for special signs<br>Of favor, is content to fall<br>Within the providence which shines<br>And rains on all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alone, the Thebaid hermit leaned<br>At noontime o'er the sacred word.<br>Was it an angel or a fiend<br>Whose voice be heard?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It broke the desert's hush of awe,<br>A human utterance, sweet and mild;<br>And, looking up, the hermit saw<br>A little child.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A child, with wonder-widened eyes,<br>O'erawed and troubled by the sight<br>Of hot, red sands, and brazen skies,<br>And anchorite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">''What dost thou here, poor man? No shade<br>Of cool, green palms, nor grass, nor well,<br>Nor corn, nor vines.' The hermit said<br>'With God I dwell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Alone with Him in this great calm,<br>I live not by the outward sense;<br>My Nile his love, my sheltering palm<br>His providence.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The child gazed round him. 'Does God live<br>Here only?-where the desert's rim<br>Is green with corn, at morn and eve,<br>We pray to Him.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'My brother tills beside the Nile<br>His little field; beneath the leaves<br>My sisters sit and spin, the while<br>My mother weaves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And when the millet's ripe heads fall,<br>And all the bean-field hangs in pod,<br>My mother smiles, and, says that all<br>Are gifts from God.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Adown the hermit's wasted cheeks<br>Glistened the flow of human tears;<br>'Dear Lord!' he said, 'Thy angel speaks,<br>Thy servant hears.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within his arms the child he took,<br>And thought of home and life with men;<br>And all his pilgrim feet forsook<br>Returned again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The palmy shadows cool and long,<br>The eyes that smiled through lavish locks,<br>Home's cradle-hymn and harvest-song,<br>And bleat of flocks.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O child!' he said, 'thou teachest me<br>There is no place where God is not;<br>That love will make, where'er it be,<br>A holy spot.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He rose from off the desert sand,<br>And, leaning on his staff of thorn,<br>Went with the young child hand in hand,<br>Like night with morn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They crossed the desert's burning line,<br>And heard the palm-tree's rustling fan,<br>The Nile-bird's cry, the low of kine,<br>And voice of man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Unquestioning, his childish guide<br>He followed, as the small hand led<br>To where a woman, gentle-eyed,<br>Her distaff fed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She rose, she clasped her truant boy,<br>She thanked the stranger with her eyes;<br>The hermit gazed in doubt and joy<br>And dumb surprise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And to!-with sudden warmth and light<br>A tender memory thrilled his frame;<br>New-born, the world-lost anchorite<br>A man became.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O sister of El Zara's race,<br>Behold me!-had we not one mother?'<br>She gazed into the stranger's face<br>'Thou art my brother!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'And when to share our evening meal,<br>She calls the stranger at the door,<br>She says God fills the hands that deal<br>Food to the poor.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O kin of blood! Thy life of use<br>And patient trust is more than mine;<br>And wiser than the gray recluse<br>This child of thine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'For, taught of him whom God hath sent,<br>That toil is praise, and love is prayer,<br>I come, life's cares and pains content<br>With thee to share.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even as his foot the threshold crossed,<br>The hermit's better life began;<br>Its holiest saint the Thebaid lost,<br>And found a man!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420710" data-title="The Hermit of Thebaid de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="O strong, upwelling prayers of faith,
From inmost founts of life ye start,-
The spirit's pulse, the vital breath
Of soul and heart!

From pastoral toil, from traffic's din,
Alone, in crowds, at home, abroad,
Unheard of man, ye enter in
The ear of ..."></div>
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