"Hark," cried the priest of old, 

 " Within mine ear God breathed the hidden word." 

 Men came and listened, whispered, shook their heads 



" He hath not wholly heard." 



" Stay," cried the gray-haired sage, 

 " Within my mind the plan, laid out, I see." 

 His fellows drew around ; " not so," they said ; 



" He has not found the key. 



" Here," cries the latest age, 

 " The atom breaks and life gives up her tale." 

 " Is the soul naught ? " the world-worn spirit sighs; 



" These men must also fail." 



" Lo," wise men cry, " we stand, 

 Like children, picking pebbles on the shore; 

 God of our fathers, give us still Thy light, 



And when that fades, give more ! " 



DUNSTANBURGH, 



August 1912. 



