A Seeker in the Night

I lift my eyes, but I cannot see;I stretch my arms and I cry to Thee,—And still the darkness covers me.

Where art Thou? In the chill obscureI wander lonely, and endureA yearning only Thou can'st cure!

Once—once, indeed, in every faceI seemed thy lineaments to traceAnd looked in all to find thy grace:

I thought the thrush—sweet worshiper!—From the minaret of the balsam-firHymned forth thy praise, my soul to stir;

I thought the early roses cameTo lisp in fragrant breaths thy name,And teach my heart to do the same;

I thought the stars thy candles, Lord!—I thought the skylark as he soaredRose to thy throne and Thee adored!

But now a labyrinth I wind,And needing more thy hand to find,Grope, darkling, Lord!—for I am blind!

Ah, bridge for me the awful vast,That I may find Thee at the last!—Then draw me close, and hold me fast!