February 4

O, that I knew where I might find Him.

IT looks as if in dreams the soul was free, No bodily limit checks its absolute play;

Then why doth it not use its liberty,

And clear a certain way

To further truth beyond the actual sea?

O, but if God would make a deep suspense,

And draw me perfect from th' adhesive sheath;

If all the veils and swathings of pretence,

Dropt from me, sunk beneath,

Then would I get me very far from hence.

I'd come to Him with one swift arrow-dart,

Aimed at the zenith of th' o'erbrooding blue;

Straight to the centre of His awful heart

The flight long-winged and true

Should bear me rapt through all the spheres that part. BROWN

A CHARACTER