They who have drunk of the River of Knowledge
Only a quaff,
Pity them, Father that know not Thy meaning,
Children who laugh.
Atoms that reck not the wherefore of atoms —
Dust of the dust:
Groping in darkness, recusant and doubting —
And bearing no trust.
They would make mock of Thee, saying the life-spark,
Came not of Thee:
Function by function in wonderful unison —
Each mystery.
Sunshine and rain-fall and food to their needing,
Air, sea and land:
Seed-time and fruit-time and harvest and gleaning —
Made to their hand.
They would gainsay Thee by calling it Nature,
Calling it Chance:
And by their impotent wonder, Thy glory,
Only enhance.
But when in mercy the last word is spoken —
When the gates yawn;
Father of Nations — take Thou Thy children
Into the dawn.
Crowning Thy marvelous works with a crowning —
Ultimate — vast —
Showing compassion and loving they knew not,
E'en to the last.