The inner Self

While others lie composed in sleep,
Close wrapped in shade and silence deep,
And starry hosts and angels keep
Their vigils o'er the night,
I have a curious work to do,
A secret door to venture through,
A wondrous being then to view;
If I can stand the sight.

I now take up the sacred key,
Unlock my breast, and pass to see
The inmost, true, essential ME:
And lo! I here have found,
Enclosed Within its shrine, the heart,
Myself, my thinking, reasoning part:
But say, my spirit, what thou art,
And whence, and whither bound!

'T is but with wonder, reverence, fear
And shrinking, that I thus draw near
The majesty, that meets me here,
My soul, unveiled, in thee!
I cannot give thy form, or hue,
Or measure, or proportions true;
But feel myself myself subdue,
Thou deepening mystery.

Not all the earth, nor air, nor sea
Could furnish food to nourish thee;
Nor welling founts, nor rivers free,
The spirit's thirst allay:
Nor silver web, nor cloth of gold,
Nor stuffs, that, time can o'er unfold,
Nor pearls, nor gems this world may hold,
Compose thee an array.

Yet all the fibres of my frame
Own that from thee their feeling came;
And, at the slightest touch, will claim
Thy closest sympathy.
Thou art their life, their light, their spring,
Informing them in every thing,
But how they are allied, and cling,
My nobler self, to thee.

And do I thus the power survey,
Whom all my meaner powers obey?
Hand, foot and tongue and eye—are they
The servants of thy will?
And when they pause, repose to take,
Dost thou, untiring and awake,
Thy pinions spread, and swiftly make
Thy wide excursions still?

What art thou, never slumbering soul,
To stretch thy wings from pole to pole —
To span the globe — to mark its roll —
Its elements to see,
Conspiring thus, to prophesy
Its end to come before thine eye,
Whilst thou canst fire and flood defy,
Nor ever cease to be?

And, swifter than an eagle flies,
Or arrows dart, dost thou arise
Through air and space, and scale the skies,
'Mid shining spheres to roam:
And with thy conscious rank elate,
Dost stand and watch at heaven's bright gate,
For glimpses of that rich estate
Where thou may'st claim thy home.

Thence, near the pit dost thou go down,
To spy the difference 'twixt the crown
Of life, and that dread withering frown,
Which blights a spirit there.
Then, on eternity's dark brink,
Between them dost thou pause, and think,
And ask, if thou shalt soar or sink—
To joy or wo the heir.

Too blind to trace thy being's plan,
Too small my nobler part to span,
I end my quest where it began,
And from myself retire.
I hence must own within my breast
A power of unknown powers possessed—
A flame, not long to be repressed,
Of clear immortal fire.