The “Great Man” of the Enochites and the Mormons

And hold Humanity one man, whose universal agony Still strains and strives to gain the goal, where agonies shall cease to be.

Believe in all things; none believe; judge not nor warp by “Facts” the thought; See clear, hear clear, tho’ life may seem Mâyâ and Mirage, Dream and Naught.

Abjure the Why and seek the How: the God and gods enthroned on high, Are silent all, are silent still; nor hear thy voice, nor deign reply.

The Now, that indivis’ible point which studs the length of inf’inite line Whose ends are nowhere, is thine all, the puny all thou callest thine.

Perchance the law some Giver hath: Let be! let be! what canst thou know? A myriad races came and went; this Sphinx hath seen them come and go.

Haply the Law that rules the world allows to man the widest range; And haply Fate’s a Theist-word, subject to human chance and change.

This “I” may find a future Life, a nobler copy of our own, Where every riddle shall be ree’d, where every knowledge shall be known;

Where ’twill be man’s to see the whole of what on Earth he sees in part; Where change shall ne’er surcharge the thought; nor hope defer’d shall hurt the heart.

But!—faded flow’er and fallen leaf no more shall deck the parent tree; And man once dropt by Tree of Life what hope of other life has he?

The shatter’d bowl shall know repair; the riven lute shall sound once more; But who shall mend the clay of man, the stolen breath to man restore?

The shiver’d clock again shall strike; the broken reed shall pipe again: But we, we die, and Death is one, the doom of brutes, the doom of men.

Then, if Nirwânâ* round our life with nothingness, ’tis haply best; Thy toils and troubles, want and woe at length have won their guerdon—Rest.

* Comparative annihilation.

Cease, Abdû, cease! Thy song is sung, nor think the gain the singer’s prize; Till men hold Ignor’ance deadly sin, till man deserves his title “Wise:”*

* “Homo sapiens.”

In Days to come, Days slow to dawn, when Wisdom deigns to dwell with men, These echoes of a voice long stilled haply shall wake responsive strain:

Wend now thy way with brow serene, fear not thy humble tale to tell:— The whispers of the Desert-wind; the tinkling of the camel’s bell.