Verse > Anthologies > The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse > 311. The Teresian Contemplative
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Nicholson & Lee, eds.  The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. 1917.
  
311. The Teresian Contemplative
By Robert Hugh Benson  (1871–1914)
  
SHE moves in tumult; round her lies
  The silence of the world of grace;
The twilight of our mysteries
  Shines like high noonday on her face;
Our piteous guesses, dim with fears,        5
She touches, handles, sees, and hears.
 
In her all longings mix and meet;
  Dumb souls through her are eloquent;
She feels the world beneath her feet
  Thrill in a passionate intent;       10
Through her our tides of feeling roll
And find their God within her soul.
 
Her faith the awful Face of God
  Brightens and blinds with utter light;
Her footsteps fall where late He trod;       15
  She sinks in roaring voids of night;
Cries to her Lord in black despair,
And knows, yet knows not, He is there.
 
A willing sacrifice she takes
  The burden of our fall within;       20
Holy she stands; while on her breaks
  The lightning of the wrath of sin;
She drinks her Saviour’s cup of pain,
And, one with Jesus, thirsts again.

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