Thinking of my earthly lot
Of trammels that the mind forgot
Driven now well far away
To origins of pain allayed
Mystery unfolds the hour
(whence begot this mortal power?)
‘Cross vaster time the twain did speak
I bowed before the lords own feet
To find my ancient self to meet
And knowing now the pain replete
I humbly did concede
Demanding the creator “Why?”
The answer; in true visions eye
For all the questions asked on high.
To know is never to deny.
For the heart is God’s own spy
And wisdom there enthroned.