Our foil in battle of life
Can never be Thy master Choice.
Our triumph truly is Thine,
Creation's King of the adamant Voice!
The pinioned mind of earth
Is wide awake to Thy Decree.
Her breast's unknown abyss
Harbours Thy Immortality.
Our living sheaths and souls
Emblem Thy Godhead's infinite urge
Of almighty Flame and Love.
Who dares to plumb Thee, O Thaumaturge?
Gold fires of bliss and grace
From the earth's buried Heaven arise
To climb Thy nude noon-peak
And Thy Sun-Face beyond surmise.
SAI 38. (1955)↩