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The Night Of Mysteries Post by :Aslan Category :Poems Author :Edward Doyle Date :July 2011 Read :1976

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The Night Of Mysteries

A cataract of stars, which, with each fall
Broadens and brightens, rapturing the sight
Of angel hosts, that view it from the height
Of knowledge of God's love for one and all
His creatures--and not darkness to appal
The spirit by the quench of every light,
For which God grants it vision--is the night
Of Life's strange mysteries, both great and small.

Oh cataracts, beyond the angels' count,
Pause and shine pendant over every deep
Of heart, mind, spirit! Lo! how down they sweep
To basic Good where, massing, they remount,
Till, mid God's "Many Mansions," high they leap,
Forming forever, joy's most splendent fount!

(The end)
Edward Doyle's poem: Night Of Mysteries

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What The Poets Show What The Poets Show

What The Poets Show
When, at God's fiat, Light flashed forth, the beam Evolved a million pigments, as it sped To every nature. Now, of all its spread, What shaft so glorious as the poet's dream Which, mote and mass, reflects the Will Supreme That life is progress, and by flight, or tread, It circles God-ward up, till perfected! For, harboring meaner thought were to blaspheme. What, if the world be chaos where it sins, Race

Thought Is Truth's Echo Thought Is Truth's Echo

Thought Is Truth's Echo
Thought is truth's echo--not her glorious eyes Beholding God, nor her white arms of light, Lifted in worship. Following truth, our flight At highest range is where our echo dies. Oh all your power and beauty, earth and skys! And, Soul and Mind! your Beauty and your Might-- Truth gathers in one flash and, catching sight Of God, lifts high in love's full sacrifice. Twixt Truth and Thought, what Truth is oft is space