by John Greenleaf Whittier (1807 - 1892)

O friends! with whom my feet have trod
Language: English 
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;
  Your logic linked and strong
I weigh as one who dreads dissent,
  And fears a doubt as wrong.
But still my human hands are weak
  To hold your iron creeds:
Against the words ye bid me speak
  My heart within me pleads.
Who fathoms the Eternal Thought?
  Who talks of scheme and plan?
The Lord is God! He needeth not
  The poor device of man.
I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground
  Ye tread with boldness shod;
I dare not fix with mete and bound
  The love and power of God.
Ye praise His justice; even such
  His pitying love I deem:
Ye seek a king; I fain would touch
  The robe that hath no seam.
Ye see the curse which overbroods
  A world of pain and loss;
I hear our Lord's beatitudes
  And prayer upon the cross.
More than your schoolmen teach, within
  Myself, alas! I know:
Too dark ye cannot paint the sin,
  Too small the merit show.
I bow my forehead to the dust,
  I veil mine eyes for shame,
And urge, in trembling self-distrust,
  A prayer without a claim.
I see the wrong that round me lies,
  I feel the guilt within;
I hear, with groan and travail-cries,
  The world confess its sin.
Yet, in the maddening maze of things,
  And tossed by storm and flood,
To one fixed trust my spirit clings;
  I know that God is good!
Not mine to look where cherubim
  And seraphs may not see,
But nothing can be good in Him
  Which evil is in me.
The wrong that pains my soul below
  I dare not throne above,
I know not of His hate, -- I know
  His goodness and His love.
I dimly guess from blessings known
  Of greater out of sight,
And, with the chastened Psalmist, own
  His judgments too are right.
I long for household voices gone,
  For vanished smiles I long,
But God hath led my dear ones on,
  And He can do no wrong.
I know not what the future hath
  Of marvel or surprise,
Assured alone that life and death
  His mercy underlies.
And if my heart and flesh are weak
  To bear an untried pain,
The bruisëd reed He will not break,
  But strengthen and sustain.
No offering of my own I have,
  Nor works my faith to prove;
I can but give the gifts He gave,
  And plead His love for love.
And so beside the Silent Sea
  I wait the muffled oar;
No harm from Him can come to me
  On ocean or on shore.
I know not where His islands lift
  Their fronded palms in air;
I only know I cannot drift
  Beyond His love and care.
O brothers! if my faith is vain,
  If hopes like these betray,
Pray for me that my feet may gain
  The sure and safer way.
And Thou, O Lord! by whom are seen
  Thy creatures as they be,
Forgive me if too close I lean
  My human heart on Thee!

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2007-06-14
Line count: 88
Word count: 529