“Why does all heaven move toward beseeching souls?”

EMPTY the brook-fed basin high on the mountain side,

Drain it drop by drop, and make it dry as you will,

The forces that guide the waters no vacuum can abide;

They rush, they join, they link their threads in a foaming tide,

And down they hurry and hasten the spent pool to re-fill.

Empty the sphere of glass, exhaust its last spent air,

Seal it and make it sure, and deem your work complete,

Let but a pin pierce through the fabric anywhere,

And the urgent and crowding ether, for all your guarding care,

Will enter and fill the space, and laugh at your swift defeat.

So to the empty chambers of these craving souls of ours

Comes the invisible grace which breathes from the Lord of heaven,

Comes as comes to the sand the tide with its freshening powers,

Comes as come to the harvest the solacing summer showers,

As to thirst of the desert the draft which is life is given.

Only be ready and wait, and Heaven shall haste to bless.

Empty thy old wine out and make a place for the new;

Swifter than rushing wind shall the force divine down press,

And the pitiful Lord, instead of the want and the loneliness,

Shall give the peace of peace and the fulness of joy to you.