Classic Poem

Bring hither costliest sacrifice;
Slack not for labour or for price;
Let dance and revelry combine
To kindle this dark soul of mine;
Be garlands pluck'd of choicest flowers;
Let love and music lend their powers: —
O world, O self, O lordly pride,
If only your mysterious fires
Enflame and feed this heart's desires,
I ask no other god beside.

Days pass'd and years. No answer came;
The altar knew no quickening flame:
No light was there, no warmth, no fire,
But sparks which, as they flash, expire:
Nothing but work and tortured will:
My soul was bare and dark and chill.
The wood was laid, the altar built,
The victim chosen, bound, and slain:
All, all was bitterly in vain
To chase my spirit's gloom and guilt.

In that my hour of self-despair
One stood beside me unaware.
With pierced hands and pierced feet,
And form and face divinely sweet
He drew me to His wounded side,
And bade me there my anguish hide.
Lo, silently anew He rears
The ruin'd altar of my God:
He sprinkles it with precious blood;
I weep upon it floods of tears.

Then fell the sacred fire from heaven;
Then heard I first the voice " Forgiven. "
And ever from that hour of love,
Sustain'd and foster'd from above,
Though only by His eye discern'd,
The fire within my heart has burn'd.
I love Him, for He first loved me:
The God who answer'd me by fire,
My one delight, my one desire,
Shall be my God eternally.