A STRANGE BOOK 355 And thus from out of life, Rolleth the river rife, That hath the mission swift To bear all things their gift. And to confine to man The circle of his scan. So that the web and woof Which is all beings' proof, Standeth in the intent That God hath with it blent. And the fixed palm of Him Keepeth His seraphim. And from the whole of things, And from all eyes of wings, And from all thoughts of hearts. And from all error's smarts, And from all sins forgiven. Works forth the patient heaven. It is the ass Christ rode Into the state of God : And 'tis the vaulted back That never yet was slack. And did sustain intense The work of Providence. And under it doth lie The penitence on high : The angels walk its bridge : And mortals on the ridge That it presents to hurry Drop over in their flurry. But 'tis the deepest ground That God hath planted round : And 'tis the largest thing That God hath made a king : And it holds time and space Rebuked by its face.
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