Dark and cold we may be, but this
Is no winter now: the frozen misery
Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move:
The thunder is the thundering of the floes,
The thaw, the flood, the upstart spring.
Thank God our time is now when wrong
Comes up to face us everywhere,
Never to leave us til we take
The longest stride of soul we ever took.
Affairs are now soul-size.
The enterprise
Is exploration into God.
The true source of joy is love—love of God, love of beauty, love of wisdom, love of
another human being, it does not matter which. It is all one love: a joyful awareness of dissolving boundaries of our ordinary
narrow self, of being one with reality
beyond, of being made whole.