Oh, will that day arrive
When I shall ceaselessly ask – yea, drive
Eternal questions into Thine ear,
O Eternity ! and have solution
How weak weeds grow and stand unbent,
Unshaken ‘neath the trampling current.
How the storm wrecks titanic things;
Uproots the trees,
And quick disturbs the mighty seas.
How the first spark blinked; how the first tree,
The first goldfish, the first bluebird so free,
And the first crooning baby,
Into this wonder-house to visit,
Made their grand entry.
They come, I see;
Their growth alone I watch.
Thy cosmic moulding Hand,
That secret works on land and sea,
I wish to seize,
From: Songs of the Soul, by Paramahansa Yogananda. Published by Self Realization Fellowship 3880 San Rafael Avenue, Los Angeles, California. Reproduced with permission of Publishers.