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The New Sinai

By Arthur Hugh Clough

Topics: classic

Lo, here is God, and there is God!     Believe it not, O Man;     In such vain sort to this and that     The ancient heathen ran:     Though old Religion shake her head,     And say in bitter grief,     The day behold, at first foretold,     Of atheist unbelief:     Take better part, with manly heart,     Thine adult spirit can;     Receive it not, believe it not,     Believe it not, O Man!     As men at dead of night awaked     With cries, The king is here,     Rush forth and greet whomeer they meet,     Whoeer shall first appear;     And still repeat, to all the street,     Tis he, the king is here;     The long procession moveth on,     Each nobler form they see,     With changeful suit they still salute,     And cry, Tis he, tis he!     So, even so, when men were young,     And earth and heaven were new,     And His immediate presence He     From human hearts withdrew,     The soul perplexed and daily vexed     With sensuous False and True,     Amazed, bereaved, no less believed,     And fain would see Him too:     He is! the prophet-tongues proclaimed;     In joy and hasty fear,     He is! aloud replied the crowd,     Is here, and here, and here.     He is! They are! in distance seen     On yon Olympus high,     In those Avernian woods abide,     And walk this azure sky:     They are! They are! to every show     Its eyes the baby turned,     And blazes sacrificial, tall,     On thousand altars burned:     They are! They are! On Sinais top     Far seen the lightnings shone,     The thunder broke, a trumpet spoke,     And God said, I am One.     God spake it out, I, God, am One;     The unheeding ages ran,     And baby-thoughts again, again,     Have dogged the growing man:     And as of old from Sinais top     God said that God is One,     By Science strict so speaks He now     To tell us, There is None!     Earth goes by chemic forces; Heavens     A Mecanique Celeste!     And heart and mind of human kind     A watch-work as the rest!     Is this a Voice, as was the Voice,     Whose speaking told abroad,     When thunder pealed, and mountain reeled,     The ancient truth of God?     Ah, not. the Voice; tis but the cloud,     The outer darkness dense,     Where image none, nor eer was seen     Similitude of sense.     Tis but the cloudy darkness dense     That wrapt the Mount around;     While in amaze the people stays,     To hear the Coming Sound.     Is there no prophet-soul the while     To dare, sublimely meek,     Within the shroud of blackest cloud     The Deity to seek?     Midst atheistic systems dark,     And darker hearts despair,     That soul has heard perchance His word,     And on the dusky air     His skirts, as passed He by, to see     Hath strained on their behalf,     Who on the plain, with dance amain,     Adore the Golden Calf.     Tis but the cloudy darkness dense;     Though blank the tale it tells,     No God, no Truth! yet He, in sooth,     Is there, within it dwells;     Within the sceptic darkness deep     He dwells that none may see,     Till idol forms and idol thoughts     Have passed and ceased to be:     No God, no Truth! ah though, in sooth,     So stand the doctrines half:     On Egypts track return not back,     Nor own the Golden Calf.     Take better part, with manlier heart,     Thine adult spirit can;     No God, no Truth, receive it neer,     Believe it neer, O Man!     But turn not then to seek again     What first the ill began;     No God, it saith; ah, wait in faith     Gods self-completing plan;     Receive it not, but leave it not,     And wait it out, O Man!     The Man that went the cloud within     Is gone and vanished quite;     He cometh not, the people cries,     Nor bringeth God to sight:     Lo these thy gods, that safety give,     Adore and keep the feast!     Deluding and deluded cries     The Prophets brother-Priest:     And Israel all bows down to fall     Before the gilded beast.     Devout, indeed! that priestly creed,     O Man, reject as sin;     The clouded hill attend thou still,     And him that went within.     He yet shall bring some worthy thing     For waiting souls to see:     Some sacred word that he hath heard     Their light and life shall be;     Some lofty part, than which the heart     Adopt no nobler can,     Thou shalt receive, thou shalt believe     And thou shalt do, O Man!

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"Lo, here is God, and there is God!..."

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Author:Arthur Hugh Clough

"Lo, here is God, and there is God!..." by Arthur Hugh Clough

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Arthur Hugh Clough

About Arthur Hugh Clough

Arthur Hugh Clough (1819–1861) was an English poet whose work explores Victorian doubt and moral uncertainty. His poems "Say Not the Struggle Naught Availeth" and "The Latest Decalogue" are sharp, thoughtful, and still widely anthologized.

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"Cease, empty Faith, the Spectrum saith,     I was,..."

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