Israel’s Spiritual Lamp

(From “The Spanish Gypsy”)

I ABIDE

By that wise spirit of listening reverence

Which marks the boldest doctors of our race.

For Truth, to us, is like a living child

Born of two parents: if the parents part

And will divide the child, how shall it live?

Or, I will rather say: Two angels guide

The paths of man, both aged and yet young,

As angels are, ripening through endless years.

On one he leans: some call her Memory,

And some Tradition; and her voice is sweet,

With deep mysterious accords: the other,

Floating above, holds down a lamp which streams

A light divine and searching on the earth,

Compelling eyes and footsteps. Memory yields

Yet clings with loving cheek, and shines anew,

Reflecting all the rays of that bright lamp

Our angel Reason holds. We had not walked,

But for Tradition; we walk evermore

To higher paths, by brightening Reason’s lamp.