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Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace, Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade ;
Thou madest Life in man and brute ;
Thou madest Death ; and lo, thy foot Is on the skull which thou hast made.
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust :
Thou madest man, he knows not why ;
He thinks he was not made to die ; And thou hast made him : thou art just.
Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou :
Our wills are ours, we know not how ; Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
Our little systems have their day ;
They have their day and cease to be :
They are but broken lights of thee, And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
We have but faith : we cannot know ;
For knowledge is of things we see ;
And yet we trust it comes from thee, A beam in darkness : let it grow.
Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell ;
That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before,
But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear :
But help thy foolish ones to bear ; Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.
Forgive what seem'd my sin in me ;
What seem'd my worth since I began ;
For merit lives from man to man, And not from man, O Lord, to thee.
Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there I find him worthier to be loved.
Forgive these wild and wandering cries,
Confusions of a wasted youth ;
Forgive them where they fail in truth, And in thy wisdom make me wise.