  HIGH lifted on the island cliff Its lantern fronts the sea, And sendeth forth a fine, straight ray Of dazzling light to me— A slender line of shimmering shine Across night’s mystery. It is the path set for my eyes To travel to the light, And warm their darkness in the blaze, And be made glad and bright. None other may catch just that ray, Or have the self-same sight. And yet, a hundred other eyes, Bent on that central blaze, Find each its separate, shining path, Its line of guiding rays; And all eyes meet in concord sweet By all these differing ways. No voice shall say: “The Light is mine, All other eyes are dim!” No hand the glory hold or hide Which streams to ocean’s rim, None claim or seize one ray as his More than belongs to him. O Light of Truth, which lighteneth all, And shineth all abroad, What favored soul or souls shall say, “Mine is the only road?” Each hath his own, to him made known, And all lead up to God. |
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