Ever above my coldness and my doubt
Rises up something, reaching forth a hand:
This thing I know, but cannot understand.
Is it the God in me that rises out
Beyond my self, trailing it up with him,
Towards the spirit-home, the freedom-land,
Beyond my conscious ken, my near horizon's brim?
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Sweet friends, receive my offering. You will find
Below each worded page a white space set:--
This is the mirror of each friendly mind
Reflecting that. In this blog we are met.
Make it, dear hearts, of worth to you indeed:--
Let your white space be ground, my text be seed,
Growing to golden ears, that faith and hope shall feed.