Prayer of Columbus

7I am too full of woe!

8Haply, I may not live another day;

9I can not rest, O God—I can not eat or drink or sleep,

10Till I put forth myself, my prayer, once more to Thee,

11Breathe, bathe myself once more in Thee—commune with Thee,

12Report myself once more to Thee.

13Thou knowest my years entire, my life,

14(My long and crowded life of active work—not adoration merely;)

15Thou knowest the prayers and vigils of my youth;

16Thou knowest my manhood’s solemn and visionary meditations;

17Thou knowest how, before I commenced, I devoted all to come to Thee;

18Thou knowest I have in age ratified all those vows, and strictly kept them;

19Thou knowest I have not once lost nor faith nor ecstasy in Thee;

20(In shackles, prison’d, in disgrace, repining not,

21Accepting all from Thee—as duly come from Thee.)

22All my emprises have been fill’d with Thee,

23My speculations, plans, begun and carried on in thoughts of Thee,

24Sailing the deep, or journeying the land for Thee;

25Intentions, purports, aspirations mine—leaving results to Thee.

26O I am sure they really come from Thee!

27The urge, the ardor, the unconquerable will,

28The potent, felt, interior command, stronger than words,

29A message from the Heavens, whispering to me even in sleep,

30These sped me on.

31By me, and these, the work so far accomplish’d (for what has been, has been;)

32By me Earth’s elder, cloy’d and stifled lands, uncloy’d, unloos’d;

33By me the hemispheres rounded and tied—the unknown to the known.

34The end I know not—it is all in Thee;

35Or small, or great, I know not—haply, what broad fields, what lands;

36Haply, the brutish, measureless human undergrowth I know,

37Transplanted there, may rise to stature, knowledge worthy Thee;

38Haply the swords I know may there indeed be turn’d to reaping-tools;

39Haply the lifeless cross I know—Europe’s dead cross—may bud and blossom

40 there.

41One effort more—my altar this bleak sand:

42That Thou, O God, my life hast lighted,

43With ray of light, steady, ineffable, vouchsafed of Thee,

44(Light rare, untellable—lighting the very light!

45Beyond all signs, descriptions, languages!)

46For that, O God—be it my latest word—here on my knees,

47Old, poor, and paralyzed—I thank Thee.

48My terminus near,

49The clouds already closing in upon me,

50The voyage balk’d—the course disputed, lost,

51I yield my ships to Thee.

52Steersman unseen! henceforth the helms are Thine;

53Take Thou command—(what to my petty skill Thy navigation?)

54My hands, my limbs grow nerveless;

55My brain feels rack’d, bewilder’d; Let the old timbers part—I will not

56 part!

57I will cling fast to Thee, O God, though the waves buffet me;

58Thee, Thee, at least, I know.

59Is it the prophet’s thought I speak, or am I raving?

60What do I know of life? what of myself?

61I know not even my own work, past or present;

62Dim, ever-shifting guesses of it spread before me,

63Of newer, better worlds, their mighty parturition,

64Mocking, perplexing me.

65And these things I see suddenly—what mean they?

66As if some miracle, some hand divine unseal’d my eyes,

67Shadowy, vast shapes, smile through the air and sky,

68And on the distant waves sail countless ships,

69And anthems in new tongues I hear saluting me.