# Littell's Living Age/Volume 132/Issue 1711/My Quest

* MY QUEST.
* Long had I wavered 'twixt belief and doubt,
* This way and that, turning my faith about,
* To keep the truth, and sift the error out.
* But which was truth — which error? Could I read
* God's hidden meanings in his word and deed
* Straight on, and squarely fashion out my creed?
* Could I lift up my daring gaze on high
* And clearly his infinitude descry,
* Whose earthly government I read awry?
* Seeking with anxious heart, though still in vain,
* To solve the mystery of sin and pain,
* Holding God's image bound in earthly chain,
* "I would" forever shackled by "I must,"
* Souls made for Heaven all fouled with earthly dust,
* And sin and sorrow rife — while he is just!
* Such thoughts as these were ever at my side,
* Blind questionings that would not be denied,
* Problems I could not solve, nor thrust aside.
* Until at times I scarce could look above,
* And recognize his Fatherhood of love,
* Who made the vulture as he made the dove.
* And when in page of Holy Writ I sought
* Rest for my troubled and bewildered thought,
* I found more puzzling questions than I brought.
* Could I the prophet's awful gift define,
* And with unerring finger draw the line
* Between man's teachings and the lore divine?
* Rightly the word of truth divide, and know
* Which things are types that heavenly forms do show,
* And which but shadows of the shapes below?
* Yet where both saint and sage had sought in vain
* Evangelist and prophet to explain.
* My troubled spirit needs must seek again.
* I longed to hold a faith by reason tried,
* And, casting every half belief aside,
* In certainties at last rest satisfied.
* But who can clear his motives' tangled maze,
* Sure that no prejudice nor passion sways,
* Nor habit and the love of early days;
* So that with single heart and steady aim,
* Unswayed by human ties, or fear of blame,
* He may take on him the disciple's name?
* Too hard the task for me — I could not bind
* The throng of hopes and wishes in my mind,
* And calmly seek the truth I feared to find.
* So, sore perplexed, I wrestled with my heart,
* Loving the old beliefs too well to part,
* While fearing yet affection's subtle art.
* My hold on truth seemed lessening day by day,
* The ancient landmarks failed to point the way;
* I could not reason, I could only pray
* That he who gladly hungry souls doth feed
* Might give me what was lacking to my need,
* And into ways of truth my footsteps lead.
* And while my strong desire to God I brought,
* That he would grant the light and peace I sought,
* These words of Christ sprang sudden to my thought, —
* "More blessed 'tis to give than to receive.
* No more — no mystic dogma to believe,
* Only a thread in each day's life to weave;
* Only a common duty, in such wise
* Transfigured by new light, that straight my eyes
* Saw how above all truth true loving lies;
* Saw that, forgetful of my own soul's need,
* Filling my life with gracious thought and deed,
* I might leave time — and God — to shape my creed.
* My prayer was answered; not as I had thought,
* I had not found the knowledge that I sought,
* To live without it was the lesson taught.
* The end of all my long and weary quest
* Is only failure; yet a sense of rest,
* Of deep, unwonted quiet, fills my breast.
* And though some vexing doubts still hold their place,
* Yet is my faith no measure for his grace,
* Whose hand still holds me though he hide his face.
* And day by day I think I read more plain
* This crowning truth, that, spite of sin and pain,
* No life that God has given is lived in vain;
* But each poor, weak, and sin-polluted soul
* Shall struggle free at last, and reach its goal,
* A perfect part of God's great perfect whole.
* My heart believes — yet still I long for light;
* Surely the morning cometh after night,
* When Faith, the watcher, shall give place to sight!