O Thou of Little Faith.

It may be true
That while we walk the troublous tossing sea,
That when we see the oertopping waves advance,
And when we feel our feet beneath us sink,
There are who walk beside us; and the cry
That rises so spontaneous to the lips,
The Help us or we perish, is not nought,
An evanescent spectrum of disease.
It may be that indeed and not in fancy,
A hand that is not ours upstays our steps,
A voice that is not ours commands the waves;
Commands the waves, and whispers in our ear,
O thou of little faith, why didst thou doubt?
At any rate,
That there are beings above us, I believe,
And when we lift up holy hands of prayer,
I will not say they will not give us aid.

Arthur Hugh Clough

Arthur Hugh Clough was born on January 1, 1819, in Liverpool, England. He was a prominent Victorian poet known for his thoughtful and somewhat unconventional works. Clough was educated at Rugby School and later at Balliol College, Oxford, where he became closely associated with the intellectual reformist circles of the time. His poetry often explored themes of doubt, faith, and societal conventions. Despite his relatively short life, Clough made a significant impact on English literature and remains a respected figure of the Victorian literary scene. He passed away on November 13, 1861.

Arthur Hugh Clough

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Arthur Hugh Clough, Simple Poetry

The Stream Of Life

Arthur Hugh Clough, Simple Poetry

Come home, come home! and where is home for me

Arthur Hugh Clough, Simple Poetry

The Dream Land

Arthur Hugh Clough, Simple Poetry

English

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Hope evermore and believe!

Hope evermore and believe, O man, for een as thy thought
So are the things that thou seest; een as thy hope and belief.
Cowardly art thou and timid? they rise to provoke thee against them,
Hast thou courage? enough, see them exulting to yield.
Yea, the rough rock, the dull earth, the wild seas furying waters
(Violent sayst thou and hard, mighty thou thinkst to destroy),
All with ineffable longing are waiting their Invader,
All, with one varying voice, call to him, Come and subdue;
Still for their Conqueror call, and, but for the joy of being conquered
(Rapture they will not forego), dare to resist and rebel;
Still, when resisting and raging, in soft undervoice say unto him,
Fear not, retire not, O man; hope evermore and believe.
Go from the east to the west, as the sun and ...

Arthur Hugh Clough

Saint Peter

    O Peter, wherefore didst thou doubt?
    Indeed the spray flew fast about,
    But he was there whose walking foot
    Could make the wandering hills take root;
    And he had said, "Come down to me,"
    Else hadst thou not set foot on sea!
    Christ did not call thee to thy grave!
    Was it the boat that made thee brave?

    "Easy for thee who wast not there
    To think thou more than I couldst dare!
    It hardly fits thee though to mock
    Scared as thou wast that railway shock!
    Who saidst this morn, 'Wife, we must go--
    The plague will soon be here, I know!'
    Who, when thy child slept--not to death--
    Saidst, 'Life is now not worth a breath!'"

    Saint Peter, thou rebukest well!
    It needs no tempest me to quell,

George MacDonald

Qui Laborat, Orat

O only Source of all our light and life,
Whom as our truth, our strength, we see and feel,
But whom the hours of mortal moral strife
Alone aright reveal!

Mine inmost soul, before Thee inly brought,
Thy presence owns ineffable, divine;
Chastised each rebel self-encentered thought,
My will adoreth Thine.

With eye down-dropt, if then this earthly mind
Speechless remain, or speechless een depart;
Nor seek to see, for what of earthly kind
Can see Thee as Thou art?

If well-assured tis but profanely bold
In thoughts abstractest forms to seem to see,
It dare not dare the dread communion hold
In ways unworthy Thee,

O not unowned, thou shalt unnamed forgive,
In worldly walks the prayerless heart prepare;
And if in work its life it se...

Arthur Hugh Clough

The New Sinai

Lo, here is God, and there is God!
Believe it not, O Man;
In such vain sort to this and that
The ancient heathen ran:
Though old Religion shake her head,
And say in bitter grief,
The day behold, at first foretold,
Of atheist unbelief:
Take better part, with manly heart,
Thine adult spirit can;
Receive it not, believe it not,
Believe it not, O Man!

As men at dead of night awaked
With cries, The king is here,
Rush forth and greet whomeer they meet,
Whoeer shall first appear;
And still repeat, to all the street,
Tis he, the king is here;
The long procession moveth on,
Each nobler form they see,
With changeful suit they still salute,
And cry, Tis he, tis he!

So, even so, when men were young,
And earth and he...

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The Eternal Goodness

O Friends! with whom my feet have trod
The quiet aisles of prayer,
Glad witness to your zeal for God
And love of man I bear.

I trace your lines of argument;
Your logic linked and strong
I weigh as one who dreads dissent,
And fears a doubt as wrong.

But still my human hands are weak
To hold your iron creeds:
Against the words ye bid me speak
My heart within me pleads.

Who fathoms the Eternal Thought?
Who talks of scheme and plan?
The Lord is God! He needeth not
The poor device of man.

I walk with bare, hushed feet the ground
Ye tread with boldness shod;
I dare not fix with mete and bound
The love and power of God.

Ye praise His justice; even such
His pitying love I deem:
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Faith

I.
Doubt no longer that the Highest is the wisest and the best,
Let not all that saddens Nature blight thy hope or break thy rest,
Quail not at the fiery mountain, at the shipwreck, or the rolling
Thunder, or the rending earthquake, or the famine, or the pest!

II.
Neither mourn if human creeds be lower than the hearts desire!
Thro the gates that bar the distance comes a gleam of what is higher.
Wait till Death has flung them open, when the man will make the Maker
Dark no more with human hatreds in the glare of deathless fire!

Alfred Lord Tennyson