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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=523161" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In War-Time: An Aspiration Of The Spirit</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lord Jesus, as a little child,<br>Upon some high ascension day<br>When a great people goes to pay<br>Allegiance, and the tumult wild</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Roars by its thousand streets, and fills<br>The billowy nation on the plain,<br>As roar into the heaving main<br>A thousand torrents from the hills,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Caught in the current of the throng<br>Is drawn beneath the closing crowd,<br>And, drowning in the human flood,<br>Is whirled in its dark depths along;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And low under the ruthless feet,<br>Or high as to the awful knees<br>Of giants that he partly sees,<br>Blinded with fear and faint with heat,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Mindless of all but what doth seem,<br>And shut out from the upper light,<br>Maddens within a monstrous night<br>Of limbs that crush him like a dream;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And when his strength no more can stand,<br>And while he sinks in his last swound,<br>Is lifted from the deadly ground,<br>And led by a resistless hand,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And thro' the opening agony<br>Goes on and knows not where, beside<br>The mastery of his guardian guide,<br>Goes on, and knows not where nor why,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Till, when the sky no more is hid,<br>Between the rocking heads he sees<br>A mount that rises by degrees<br>Above them like a pyramid,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And on the summit of the mount<br>A vacant throne, and round the throne<br>Bright-vestured princes, zone by zone,<br>In circles that he cannot count.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And feels, at length, a slanting way,<br>And labours by his guardian good<br>Till forth, as from a lessening wood,<br>They step into the dazzling day,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And from the mount he sees below<br>The maivel of the marshalled plain,<br>And what was tumult is a reign,<br>And, as he climbs, the princes know</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>His guide, and fall about his feet,<br>Before his face the courtiers fall,<br>And lo! it is the Lord of all,<br>And on his throne he takes his seat;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And, while strong fears transfix the boy,<br>The mighty people far and near<br>Throw up upon the eye and ear<br>The flash and thunder of their joy,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And, round the royal flag unfurled,<br>In sequent love and circling awe<br>The legions lead their living law,<br>And what was Chaos is a World:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>So, Lord, Thou seest this mortal me,<br>Deep in Titanic days that press<br>Incessant from unknown access<br>To issues that I cannot see.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Caught in the current stern and strong<br>I sink beneath the closing crowd,<br>And drowning in the awful flood<br>Am whirled in its dark depths along,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Struggling with shows so thronged and thrust<br>On these wide eyes which bruise and burn,<br>And flash with half-seen sights, or turn<br>To that worse darkness thick with dust,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>That mindful of but what doth seem,<br>And hopeless of the upper light,<br>I madden in a monstrous night<br>Of shapes that crush me like a dream.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Then when my strength no more can stand,<br>And while I sink in my last swound,<br>Lo! I am lifted from the ground,<br>And led by a resistless hand;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And thro' the opening agony<br>Go on and know not where, beside<br>The mastery of my guardian guide,<br>Go on, and know not where or why;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Nor, tho' I cannot see Thy brow,<br>Distrust the hand I feel so dear,<br>Nor question how Thou wert so near,<br>Nor ask Thee whither goest Thou,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Nor whence Thy footsteps first began.<br>Whence, Lord, Thou knowest: whither, Lord,<br>Thou knowest: how Thou knowest. Oh Word<br>That can be touched, oh Spoken Man,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Enough, enough, if Thou wilt lead,<br>To know Thou knowest: enough to know<br>That darkling at Thy side I go,<br>And this strong hand is Thine indeed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Yet by that side, unspent, untrod,<br>Oh let me, clinging still to Thee,<br>Between the swaying wonders see<br>The throne upon the mount of God.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And-tho' they close before mine eye,<br>And all my course is choked and shut-<br>Feel Time grow steeper under foot,<br>And know the final height is nigh.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And as one sees, thro' cambered straits<br>Of forests, on his forward way,<br>Horizons green of coloured day,<br>Oh let me thro' the crowding Fates</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Behold the light of skies unseen,<br>Till on that sudden Capitol<br>I step forth to the sight of all<br>That is, and shall be, and hath been,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And Thou, O King, shalt take Thine own<br>Triumphant; and, Thy place fulfilled,<br>The flaw of Nature shall be healed,<br>And joyous round Thy central throne</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I see the vocal ages roll,<br>And all the human universe<br>Like some great symphony rehearse<br>The order of its perfect whole;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And seek in vain where once I fell,<br>Nor know the anarchy I knew<br>In those congenial motions due<br>Of this great work where all is well,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And smile, with dazzled wisdom dumb,<br>-Remembering all I said and sung-<br>That man asks more of mortal tongue<br>Than skill to say, 'Thy kingdom come.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Sydney+Thompson+Dobell">Sydney Thompson Dobell</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=523161" data-title="In War-Time: An Aspiration Of The Spirit de Sydney Thompson Dobell" data-description="Lord Jesus, as a little child,
Upon some high ascension day
When a great people goes to pay
Allegiance, and the tumult wild


Roars by its thousand streets, and fills
The billowy nation on the plain,
As roar into the heaving main
A thousand torren..."></div>
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