Trust
SEE how the wind is hauling point by point to the south,
By the boats in the little harbor, that swing to its lightest touch;
And the coasting craft emerge from the far-off river’s mouth,
And on the rocks the breakers relax their impotent clutch.
At last is the tempest ended, the bitter northeast appeased,
And the world will soon be sparkling in clear white fire and dew,
And the sullen clouds melt swiftly, by the might of warm wind seized,
And the heavens shine in splendor, where broadens the matchless blue.
Carol the birds in chorus; glitters the snow-white gull,
Screaming loud in mid-air, slow-soaring high with delight;
And the rosebuds loosen their petals, the drenched flowers, sodden and dull,
Break out into stars of purple and gold and crimson and white.
Where wert thou, Spirit of Beauty, while earth lay cold and dark,
And the chill wind struck to our hearts, and the sky like an enemy scowled,
And we crept through the mists desponding, and never a glimmering spark
Shot a ray through the gloom while the storm like a demon groveled and growled?
Where art thou Heavenly Father, when thy world seems spoiled with sin,
And darker far than thy tempest arises the smoke of doubt,
That blackens the sky of the soul? - for faith is hard to win:
To our finite sight wrong triumphs and noble things die out,
While shapes of monstrous evil makes fearful thy nights and days,
And murder stalks unhindered, working its hideous will,
And innocence, gentleness, charity seem to forsake earth’s ways,
And in the hearts of thy creatures are madness and nameless ill.
Behind the cloud Thou waitest, hidden, yet very near,
Infinite Spirit of Beauty, Infinite Power of Good!
At last Thou wilt scatter the vapors, and all things shall be clear,
And evil shall vanish away like a mist by the wind pursued.
