The Secret Splendour

Ultima

If each delightful cadence

Mark not a flight to Thee,

My fancy's airiest radiance

 Profanes its own mute core of mystery!

If song be no sea-faring

With words a wide-flung net

 Deep thoughts of Thee ensnaring,

Brave rhythms leave a trail of futile fret!

Vain if, its ardour fading,

No more my minstrel mood

 Call down Thy joy cascading

A living light into the heart's dim wood!

Grant that the lyric phrases

My spirit cannot stem

I make for heaven-rapt praises

 But earthly rites, myself exceeding them!

Exceeding, as I open

Unfleshly lifted palms

And Thou in starred love token

Scatterest Thy own divinity as alms!

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