The Stundist in Siberian Exile AND OTHER POEMS, William Fetler, 1922

I ? Nought! . . . Nought! But the effluence of Thy light divine, Pervading worlds, had reached my bosom too ; Yea, in my spirit doth Thy spirit shine— As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew. Nought! But I live, and on hope’s pinions fly Eager toward Thy presence ; for in Thee I live, and breathe, and dwell, aspiring high, Even to the throne of Thy divinity! I am, 0 God ! then surely Thou must be ! Thou art ! directing, guiding all, Tnou art ! Direct my understanding then to Thee. Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart: Though but an atom ’midst immensity, Still am I something, fashioned by Thy hand ! I hold a middle rank ’twixt heaven and earth, On the last verge of mortal being stand, Close to the realms where angels have their birth— Close by the bound’ries of the spirit-land ! 24 " GOD ” The Chain of Being is complete in me ; In me is matter’s last gradation lost— And the next step is spirit—Deity ! I can command the lightning, and am dust! A monarch—and a slave I a worm—a god ! Whence came I here, and how ? so marvellously Constructed and conceived ? Unknown! this clod Lives surely through some higher energy ; For from itself alone it could not be ! Creator ! Yea, Thy wisdom and Thy word Created Me ! Thou, Source of life and good ! Thou, Spirit of my spirit, and my Lord ! Thy light. Thy love, in their bright plenitude Gave me an immortal soul, to spring O’er the abyss of death, and bade it wear The garments of eternal day, and wing Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere, Even to its source—To Thee—its Author there ! O thoughts ineffable ! O vision blest I Though worthless our conceptions all of Thee, Yet shall Thy shadowed image fill our breast, And waft its homage to Thy Deity. God I thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar; Thus seek Thy presence—Being wise and good ! Midst Thy vast works admire, obey, adore ; And when the tongue is eloquent no more, The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude. Translated by John Bowling (in 1821). THE CONVERSION OK IVAN NIKITICH RETURN TO GOD 35 THE PRODIGAL’S CONFESSION So you desire to hear my story ? Well, I will tell you, as it is. There was a time I lived in glory— I loved my father, I was his. I did not think of my desires, My joy was then to do his will; And how I wish I had remained so; So pure of heart if I were still ! No cares at all did then oppress me, I sang and laughed the whole day long, And after work, when night had fallen. You still could hear my evening song. For heart that’s innocent is merry, No heavy stone does press him down; He even welcomes death with laughter,— He knows he’ll get a victor’s crown ! I did not care for joy outside, My father’s house was all I needed, My father’s word was then my guide— Oh, if I’d his voice but heeded ! My brother was my brother then, And everybody loved me dearly, Until I went, and went again, So f