The thronging multitudes increase; Then saith the Christ, as silent stands The crowd, "What wilt thou at my hands?" And he replies, “O give me light! Rabbi, restore the blind man's sight!" And Jesus answers, “Yлaуɛ • Η πίστις σου σέσωκέ σε! > Ye that have eyes, yet cannot see, In darkness and in misery, Recall those mighty Voices Three, Θάρσει, ἔγειραι, ὕπαγε! Η πίστις σου σέσωκέ σε 120 THE GOBLET OF LIFE. FILLED is Life's goblet to the brim; With solemn voice and slow. No purple flowers,—no garlands green, Conceal the goblet's shade or sheen, Nor maddening draughts of Hippocrene, Like gleams of sunshine, flash between Thick leaves of misletoe. This goblet, wrought with curious art, Is filled with waters, that upstart, When the deep fountains of the heart, By strong convulsions rent apart, Are running all to waste. And as it mantling passes round, With fennel is it wreathed and crowned, Whose seed and foliage sun-imbrowned Are in its waters steeped and drowned, And give a bitter taste. Above the lowly plants it towers, And in an earlier age than ours Was gifted with the wondrous powers, Lost vision to restore. It gave new strength, and fearless mood; And he who battled and subdued, Then in Life's goblet freely press, The leaves that give it bitterness, New light and strength they give! And he who has not learned to know He has not learned to live. The prayer of Ajax was for light; Through all that dark and desperate fight, The blackness of that noonday night, He asked but the return of sight, Let our unceasing, earnest prayer Be, too, for light, for strength to bear Our portion of the weight of care, That crushes into dumb despair One half the human race. O suffering, sad humanity! Patient, though sorely tried! |