AT THE FEET OF ISIS



HER feet are set in darkness--at Her feet
We kneel, for She is Mother of us all--
A mighty Mother, with all love replete;
We, groping ’midst the shadow’s dusky pall,
Ask not to see the upper vision bright,
Enough for us Her feet shine clear--all virgin white.
 
Her wings are tipped with golden light, but we
Ken but the shadow at Her pinions’ base--
We kneel before Her feet, we cannot see
The glory that illuminates Her face,
For he who t’wards the vision gazeth up
Finds first the stricken breast--the sacrificial cup!
 
Her feet gleam in the darkness--at Her feet
We lay the price of those twin pearls of Heav’n--
All that man hath--an offering incomplete
Is his who yet his best would leave ungiv’n;
And as She stoops Her guerdon to bestow,
His life’s blood in Her cup, outstretched there, needs must flow!
 
Her wings are in the shadow--Lo! they cast
That shadow e’en o’er Heav’n’s own light, we cry,
For in the darkness, terrible and vast,
She spreads the wing to which the soul must hie;
But, to that shelter led, our upward gaze
Beholds Her pinions formed of Light’s celestial rays!
 
Her feet are in the darkness, but Her face
Is in high Heav’n--all Truth inhabits there;
All Knowledge and all Peace, and perfect grace,
And in the wonder of Her joy they share
Who, blindly clinging to Her feet erstwhile,
Obtained the priceless gift--the vision of Her smile.