fear and not the love?Who knoweth Man’s heart? All bow,
And all proclaim His might. The manner and the how
It were less safe to argue, since some frailties be.
We take the outward act to prove conformity.
All’s well enough with Man – most well with Christendom.
Again thou sayest “enough.” How fareth it in Rome?
Hath My vicegerent rest?
He sitteth as of old
Enthroned in Peter’s chair with glories manifold.
He sang a mass this morning and I heard his prayer.
For Peace?
And Power on Earth.
And were the monarchs there,
The great ones in their place? Did a3ll pray with one breath?
Some priests and poor I saw,
The poor he always hath.
His guards, his chamberlains.
The mighty ones, the proud,
Do they not kneel together daily in one crowd?
Have they no common counsel?
Kings have their own needs,
Demanding separate service.
Ay, and their own creeds.
One cause alone combines them, and one service – mine.
Thou sayest?
Man still is Man.
We did redeem his line
And crown him with new worship. In the ancient days
His was a stubborn neck. But now he hath found grace,
Being born anew. His gods he hath renounced, sayest thou?
He worshippeth the Christ? What more?
Nay, ’tis enow.
He is justified by faith. He hath no fear of Hell
Since he hath won Thy grace. All’s well with Man, – most well.
“All’s well”! The fair phrase wearieth. It hath a new false ring.
Truce, Gabriel, to thy word fence. Mark my questioning.
Or rather no – not thou, blest Angel of all good,
Herald of God’s glad tidings to a world subdued,
Thou lover tried of Man. I will not question thee,
Lest I should tempt too sore and thou lie cravenly.
Is there no other here, no drudge, to do that task
And lay the secret bare, the face behind the mask?
One with a soul less white, who loveth less, nay hates;
One fit for a sad part, the Devil’s advocate’s;
One who some wrong hath done, or hath been o’erborne of ill,
And so hath his tongue loosed? O for Soul with will!
O for one hour of Satan!
He is here, Lord God,
Ready to speak all truths to Thy face, even “Ichabod,
Thy glory is departed,” were that truth.
Thou? Here?
A suppliant for Thy pardon, and in love, not fear,
One who Thou knowest doth love Thee, ay, and more than these.
That word was Peter’s once.
I speak no flatteries;
Nor shall I Thee deny for this man nor that maid,
Nor for the cock that crew.
Thou shalt not be gainsaid.
I grant thee audience. Speak.
Alone?
’Twere best alone.
Angels, ye are dismissed. (The angels depart.) Good Satan, now say on.
Omnipotent Lord God! Thou knowest all. I speak
Only as Thy poor echo, faltering with words weak,
A far-off broken sound, yet haply not unheard.
Thou knowest the Worlds Thou madest, and Thine own high word
Declaring they were good. Good were they in all sooth
The mighty Globes Thou mouldedst in the World’s fair youth,
Launched silent through the void, evolving force and light.
Thou gatheredst in Thy hand’s grasp shards of the Infinite
And churnedst them to Matter; Space concentrated,
Great, glorious, everlasting. The Stars leaped and fled,
As hounds, in their young strength. Yet might they not withdraw
From Thy hand’s leash and bond. Thou chainedst them with law.
They did not sin, those Stars, change face, wax proud, rebel.
Nay, they were slaves to Thee, things incorruptible.
I might not tempt them from Thee.
And the reason?
Hear.
Thou gavest them no mind, no sensual atmosphere,
Who wert Thyself their soul. Though thou should drowse for aye,
They should not swerve, nor flout Thee, nor abjure Thy way,
Not by a hair’s breadth, Lord.
Thou witnessest for good.
I testify for truth. In all that solitude
Of spheres involved with spheres, of prodigal force set free,
There hath been no voice untrue, no tongue to disagree,
No traitor thought to wound with less than perfect word.
Such was Thy first Creation. I am Thy witness, Lord.
’Twas worthy of Thyself.
And of the second?
Stop.
How shall I speak of it unless Thou give me hope;
I who its child
