In Memoriam A. H. H. Obiit: 124.

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That which we dare invoke to bless;
 Our dearest faith; our ghastliest doubt;
 He, They, One, All; within, without;
 The Power in darkness whom we guess;
 I found Him not in world or sun,
 Or eagle's wing, or insect's eye;
 Nor thro' the questions men may try,
 The petty cobwebs we have spun:
 If e'er when faith had fall'n asleep,
  I heard a voice, "Believe no more,"
  And heard an ever-breaking shore
  That tumbled in the Godless deep,

  A warmth within the breast would melt
  The freezing reason's colder part,
  And like a man in wrath the heart
  Stood up and answer'd, "I have felt."

  No, like a child in doubt and fear:
  But that blind clamour made me wise;
  Then was I as a child that cries,
  But crying, knows his father near;

  And what I am beheld again
  What is, and no man understands;
  And out of darkness came the hands
  That reach thro' nature, moulding men.

© Alfred Tennyson