Sagas of Vaster Britain: Poems of the Race, the Empire and the Divinity of Man

by William Wilfred Campbell




OUT of the strife of conflict,
    Out of the nightmare wild,
Thou bringest me, spent and broken,
    Like the life of a little child.

Like the spume of a far-spent wave,

    Or a wreck cast up from the sea,
Out from the pride of being
    My soul returns to Thee.

Thou, who only art Master,
    Lord of the weak and the strong,

Who makest the kings of earth’s struggles
    As the far refrain of a song.

And Thou teachest me all is as nothing
    Save to follow the fate love willed,
And dree life’s weird to the final port,

    Where the tumult of being is stilled:

Where the woe that wrecked me is vanished,
    And the pride that stayed me is gone:
And only the feeling of eventime,
    When the toil of the world is done :—


O, Master of being and slumber,
    When the pageant and pæan have passed,
Take me where Thy great silence
    Is vaster than all that is vast.