Omar Farouk- Zeynep's Romance!
John Greenleaf Whittier
O friends! with whom my feet have trod
The quiet aisles of prayer,
Glad witness to your zeal for God
And love of man I bear.
I trace your lines of argument;
But still my human hands are weak
Who fathoms the Eternal Thought?
I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground
Ye praise His justice; even such
Your logic linked and strong
I weigh as one who dreads dissent,
And fears a doubt as wrong.
To hold your iron creeds;
Against the words ye bid me speak
My heart within me pleads.
Who talks of scheme and plan?
The Lord is God! He needeth not
The poor device of man.
Ye tread with boldness shod:
I dare not fix with mete and bound
The love and power of God.
His pitying love I deem
Ye seek a king; I fain would touch
The robe that hath no seam.
REQUIREMENT
by John Greenleaf Whittier
We live by Faith; but Faith is not the slave
Justice and mercy and humility,
The Master's footprints in our daily ways?
Of text and legend. Reason's voice and God's,
Nature's and Duty's, never are at odds.
What asks our Father of his children, save
A reasonable service of good deeds,
Pure living, tenderness to human needs,
Reverence and trust, and prayer for light to see
No knotted scourge nor sacrificial knife,
But the calm beauty of an ordered life
Whose very breathing is unworded praise!--
A life that stands as all true lives have stood,
Firm-rooted in the faith that God is Good.
Utterance
by John Greenleaf Whittier
But what avail inadequate words to reach
The innermost of Truth? Who shall essay,
Blinded and weak, to point and lead the way,
Or solve the mystery in familiar speech?
Yet, if it be that something not thy own,
Some shadow of the Thought to which our schemes,
Creeds, cult, and ritual are at best but dreams,
Is even to thy unworthiness made known,
Thou mayst not hide what yet thou shouldst not dare
To utter lightly, lest on lips of thine
The real seem false, the beauty undivine.
So, weighing duty in the scale of prayer,
Give what seems given thee. It may prove a seed
Of goodness dropped in fallow-grounds of need.
Excerpt from the meeting
by John Greenleaf Whittier
And still the measure of our needs,
Outgrows the cramping bounds of creeds;
The manna gathered yesterday
Already savors of decay;
Doubts to the world's child-heart unknown
Question us now from star and stone;
Too little or too much we know
And sight is swift and faith is slow;
The power is lost to self-deceive
With shallow forms of make-believe.
We walk at high noon, and the bells
"God should be most where man is least:
Call to a thousand oracles,
But the sound deafens, and the light
Is stronger than our dazzled sight;
The letters of the sacred Book
Glimmer and swim beneath our look;
Still struggles in the Age's breast
With deepening agony of quest
The old entreaty: 'Art thou He,
Or look we to the Christ to be?'
So, where is neither church nor priest,
And never rag nor form of creed
To clothe the nakedness of need,--
Where farmer folk in silence meet,--
I turn my bell-unsummoned feet;
I lay the critic's glass aside,
I tread upon my lettered pride,
And, lowest-seated, testify
To the oneness of humanity;
Confess the universal want,
And share whatever Heaven may grant.
He findeth not who seeks his own,
The soul is lost that's saved alone.
Excerpt from the meeting
by John Greenleaf Whittier
So sometimes comes to soul and sense
The low and dark horizon lifts,
Then duty leaves to love its task,
"So, to the calmly gathered thought
The feeling which is evidence
That very near about us lies
The realm of spiritual mysteries.
The sphere of the supernal powers
Impinges on this world of ours.
To light the scenic terror shifts;
The breath of a diviner air
Blows down the answer of a prayer:--
That all our sorrow, pain, and doubt
A great compassion clasps about,
And law and goodness, love and force,
Are wedded fast beyond divorce.
The beggar Self forgets to ask;
With smile of trust and folded hands,
The passive soul in waiting stands
To feel, as flowers the sun and dew,
The One true Life its own renew.
The innermost of truth is taught,
The mystery dimly understood,
That love of God is love of good,
And, chiefly, its divinest trace
In Him of Nazareth's holy face
By Their Works
by John Greenleaf Whittier
Call him not heretic whose works attest
His faith in goodness by no creed confessed.
Whatever in love's name is truly done
To free the bound and lift the fallen one
Is done to Christ. Whoso in deed and word
Is not against Him labours for our Lord.
When he, who, sad and weary, longing sore
For love's sweet service sought the sisters' door
One saw the heavenly, one the human guest
But who shall say which loved the master best?
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