From 'pauline'
Robert Browning
O God, where does this tendthese struggling aims?
What would I have? What is this sleep, which seems
To bound all? can there be a waking point
Of crowning life? The soul would never rule
It would be first in all thingsit would have
Its utmost pleasure filled,but that complete
Commanding for commanding sickens it.
The last point I can trace is, rest beneath
Some better essence than itselfin weakness;
This is myselfnot what I think should be
And what is that I hunger for but God?
My God, my God! let me for once look on thee
As tho nought else existed: we alone.
And as creation crumbles, my souls spark
Expands till I can say, Even from myself
I need thee, and I feel thee, and I love thee;
I do not plead my rapture in thy works
For love of theeor that I feel as one
Who cannot diebut there is that in me
Which turns to thee, which loves, or which should love.
Why have I girt myself with this hell-dress?
Why have I laboured to put out my life?
Is it not in my nature to adore,
And een for all my reason do I not
Feel him, and thank him, and pray to himnow?
Can I forgo the trust that he loves me?
Do I not feel a love which only ONE
O thou pale form, so dimly seen, deep-eyed,
I have denied thee calmlydo I not
Pant when I read of thy consummate deeds,
And burn to see thy calm pure truths out-flash
The brightest gleams of earths philosophy?
Do I not shake to hear aught question thee?
If I am erring save me, madden me,
Take from me powers and pleasureslet me die.
Ages, so I see thee: I am knit round
As with a charm, by sin and lust and pride,
Yet tho my wandering dreams have seen all shapes
Of strange delight, oft have I stood by thee
Have I been keeping lonely watch with thee
In the damp night by weeping Olivet,
Or leaning on thy bosom, proudly less
Or dying with thee on the lonely cross
Or witnessing thy bursting from the tomb!
