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 BEQUEST OF 
 ALBERT ADSIT CLEMONS 
 (Not available for exchange) 
 

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 THREE HUNDRED COPIES PRINTED 
 This Copy is Number 
 
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The Vital Touch 
 
 Itrtnr E. g-nutlfhinrtlf 
 
 1^ 
 
 Ptibltaljrii by tt|i» Autlynr 
 mlirrrrtf 
 
7^3551 
 
 Copyright, 1902, By 
 
 "Bittar E. ^outtfittartli 
 
 Bequest 
 
 Albert Adsit Clemona 
 
 Aug. 24, 1938 
 
 (Not available for exchange) 
 
 PRESS OF 
 DENVER 
 
B^btrat^b tn Mvi Wlft 
 
 My pride it is, my joy it is, 
 My manhood's surest test. 
 
 To love you much, to love you more, 
 To love you last and best. 
 
 Come any day, come any place, 
 
 My soul is satisfied 
 To find in love of what you are, 
 
 Its constant joy and pride. 
 
 There is no price I would not pay 
 For the joy that fills m,y heart to-day. 
 
 No task so hard I would not do 
 For the love of what I find in you. 
 
 No loss so great, no grief so sad. 
 
 But the thought of you will make me glad. 
 
The Vital Touch has brought the author to a consciousness 
 that there is but one life in the midst of which souls exist as 
 perfect centers of action. The infinite objectivity which we 
 call the universe is the eternal playmate and bosom friend of 
 the infinite subjectivity which we call the soul. The realization 
 of this truth is what the author calls The Vital Touch- 
 
 V. E. S. 
 

 PAGE 
 
 My Symphony li 
 
 At Eventide 12 
 
 A Quiet Heart 13 
 
 Duty ^4 
 
 To the Dear Earth 15 
 
 The Vision 16 
 
 The Song of My Heart 17 
 
 The Greatness of Love 19 
 
 The Dawn 21 
 
 Contentment 22 
 
 Gratitude 23 
 
 Together 24 
 
 The Poet's Secret 25 
 
 Assurance 26 
 
 I Am 27 
 
 Heroism 29 
 
 Faithful Failure 30 
 
 The Beauty of the World 3^ 
 
 An Evening Prayer 33 
 
 This, This Is God 35 
 
 A Day at a Time 37 
 
 Oneness 38 
 
(Bantsnti 
 
 Thou Living Christ 
 The Inexpressible 
 In the Silence 
 The Cosmic Soul , 
 Why Should I Pray 
 Who Is the Man I Love 
 Credo .... 
 
 Expectancy 
 
 39 
 41 
 42 
 
 43 
 45 
 46 
 
 47 
 48 
 
®If? Itlal ®0url| 
 
jo KNOW the power within, 
 To meet the world in love, 
 To cherish for mankind a boundless hope, 
 To hold divine relationship with all that is. 
 
 To have the mind a perfect instrument, 
 
 To make wise use of every circumstance, 
 
 And to be all I am in all I do: 
 
 Such is the perfect life of man. 
 
At ^btntiiit 
 
 ONG with joy my eyes have feasted 
 On the beauty of the day, 
 Knowing well such sunlit comfort 
 Cannot stay. 
 
 Now I turn to feast as deeply 
 On the beauty of the night, 
 Equal beauty that the darkness 
 Brings to light. 
 
 Not alone the bright sun loves me, 
 
 Not alone the day is dear ; 
 Full as friendly come the shadows 
 Creeping near. 
 
 So this dream we call our life time, 
 
 Full of beauty as it seems, 
 Passeth into other beauties — 
 Other dreams. 
 
A (^nUt ^tnxt 
 
 p 
 
 m 
 m 
 
 N VAIN beyond the present day 
 By some remote and untried way 
 We urge our quest 
 After the best. 
 
 Looking afar in hope to find 
 What we perchance have left behind 
 
 In ample store 
 
 At our own door. 
 
 The best is near, already ours, 
 
 If we would wisely use the powers 
 
 Of mind and heart 
 
 And do our part. 
 
 Complete and fair the earth will be 
 For him whose inner majesty 
 
 Crowns every sight 
 
 With its own light. 
 
 In any place we find the thing 
 
 That in our hearts the power we bring 
 
 To see and use, 
 
 All else we lose. 
 
 13 
 
iutg 
 
 UTY is but the power to do. 
 Who feels the need and conscious is of power 
 Must rise to act, 
 With not one thought but that occasion leads 
 
 the way 
 And I am strong. 
 
 There is no skill that does not bind to use. 
 
 I must be all I am in all I do ; 
 
 So flowers the plant, 
 
 So stars in heaven are bright. 
 
 So seasons circle on, 
 
 So life ascends. 
 
 The power within must full expression gain — 
 
 Such is the need supreme, the law of life. 
 
 Each must be free to live in truth unto himself; 
 
 No fear to check, 
 
 No gain to lure him on. 
 
 His mind unbought. 
 
 Each act his very own without reserve — 
 
 And so, and to the end, will life advance. 
 
©0 tljF S^ar lEartlj 
 
 AY it be mine to live close unto thee 
 With open mind in tender sympathy, 
 To feel all that I am with thee akin, 
 All outward life one with the life within. 
 
 May it be mine to love all things that live. 
 And cherish wisely what return they give, 
 I would not hold the meanest in disdain, 
 Nor think that any spends itself in vain. 
 
 Amid the world of forms that cannot stay, 
 It were enough, if by each common way 
 I could discern with ever deep'ning sight 
 Abounding good and wisdom infinite. 
 
 No more I ask than never to pass by 
 The good of things that close about me lie ; 
 Never, with eyes fixed on some mystic star, 
 To miss the glory of the things that are. 
 
 15 
 
Slljr lllHt0tt 
 
 So SIMPLE, common thing 
 Do thou disdain, 
 Nor call thou aught unclean, 
 Nor treat as vain. 
 
 Each life begins and ends, 
 
 Whate'er it be. 
 In the same boundless source 
 
 That dwells in thee. 
 
 Naught ever hopeless is. 
 
 Since all is one, 
 From tiny water-mote 
 
 To distant sun. 
 
 Holy and wonderful, 
 
 Each earthly clod, 
 If thou the vision seest — 
 
 All things in God. 
 
 i6 
 
\ 
 
 ^F I could but say what fills my heart, 
 Or if I its song could sing, 
 Twould be of the joys the days impart 
 As they pass on noiseless wing. 
 
 I would sing the glories that abide 
 In the always now and near. 
 
 Treasures of beauty on every side — 
 The heavenly world of here. 
 
 I would sing the greatness of the soul, 
 Of the free and fearless mind ; 
 
 I would sing of patient self-control, 
 And of noble deeds and kind. 
 
 I would sing of toil that fills our days 
 With the sense of manly worth ; 
 
 I would sing the happiness we find 
 And the dear old comrade — Earth. 
 
 I would sing the happiness we find 
 In the drawing near of friends ; 
 
 Of the intercourse of mind with mind, 
 And of love that never ends. 
 
 17 
 
 Erratum 
 
 Fourth verse on page 17 should read: 
 I would sing of toil that fills our days 
 
 With the sense of manly worth: 
 I would sing of sane and simple ways. 
 
 And the dear old comrade — Earth. 
 
I would sing how sorrow quickens love, 
 
 How sympathy unites us, 
 How the weight of care 'neath which we move 
 
 With added strength requites us. 
 
 I would sing of dreams, the soul's ideals, 
 And visions that come thronging, 
 
 Of the ecstasy the spirit feels, 
 Of deep and holy longing. 
 
 I would sing of death with cheerful heart 
 
 And of things not understood, 
 For I know they are of life a part 
 
 And can only lead to good ! 
 
 i8 
 
0I|^ (^r^ntn^BB of HaJif 
 
 Sli. my youthful days I fancied 
 
 I saw plainly truth and right, 
 Dreamed, to me, life's wondrous meaning 
 Stood revealed in clearest light; 
 Now I know I see but dimly 
 
 Half the glory of the truth ; 
 Put aside are childish fancies, 
 
 Vanished far the dreams of youth. 
 
 Now beyond my boldest vision 
 
 Signs of what shall be I trace, 
 When no more by weakness hindered 
 
 I shall see as face to face. 
 I have gained a higher wisdom. 
 
 Time has brought a faith profound, 
 Steadfast now my hope abideth. 
 
 Since by love my life is crowned. 
 
 What avail the words of angels, 
 
 What avail the tongues of men. 
 What the gift of prophesying, 
 
 What our learning's farthest ken, 
 What the faith that moveth mountains, 
 
 What can charity secure. 
 What tho we may die as martyrs, 
 
 Without love our souls are poor. 
 
 19 
 
Love endureth, hopeth all things, 
 
 Love seeks not its own to gain, 
 Turns with all the more compassion 
 
 Unto those who give us pain. 
 'Mid the doubts that mock our knowledge, 
 
 'Mid the clamor of our creeds, 
 There abides our surest safety 
 
 In the love of kindly deeds. 
 
Ei^t iafan 
 
 I HEN we have lingered long enough in sleep 
 And through the chambers of this shut-in life 
 The great awakening light sets all astir, 
 I wonder will not Death reveal itself 
 A friendlier thing than thus to sleep and dream? 
 
 When sleep is gone will not our dreams remain ? 
 Will we not marvel how so long with fear 
 We pulled the curtain close to keep away the dawn, 
 And did our best not to be roused so soon? 
 
 I sometimes think a tender mother leaves us now to sleep 
 Who then will wake us, saying, " 'Tis day, my child." 
 
JOME stay at home with me, 
 Nor vainly hope to see 
 
 A better day. 
 Cling stoutly to the real, 
 Nor seek for the ideal 
 So far away. 
 
 There is no life unclean. 
 No useless thing or mean 
 
 To natures fine. 
 All have their place to fill, 
 And, high or low, they thrill 
 
 With power divine. 
 
 So put thy dream aside, 
 And learn what joys abide 
 
 In things that are. 
 Here is the place of God, 
 As well this foot-worn sod 
 
 As yonder star. 
 
JORE than a dream of pleasure is the life of man 
 on earth; 
 More than laughter of children, babble of 
 innocent mirth. 
 
 Better the long, hard pathway that leads to the shining 
 
 goal. 
 Better the need of courage, and better the patient soul. 
 
 There's gain we cannot measure in the loss that's bravely 
 
 borne. 
 There is triumph in the failure the strong man laughs 
 
 to scorn. 
 
 There's more of heart for kindness that our days are full 
 of care. 
 
 There is more of deep compassion that death is every- 
 where. 
 
 23 
 
®00^tlj^r 
 
 HIS cozy nook and any weather, 
 And you, my love, and me together. 
 
 A loaf to share and a book or two, 
 The evening lamp and near me you. 
 
 The freest of speech and quiet laughter, 
 Then hours of rest together after. 
 
 The rousing dawn, the new day's greeting. 
 And so together the years go fleeting. 
 
 Whatever other good is given, 
 
 I make my boast that this is Heaven. 
 
HENCE does the poet have his song, 
 How has his melody found birth, 
 Save as his heart made pure and strong 
 Is joyful comrade of the earth? 
 
 He sees all things with kindly eyes, 
 Nor finds he cause for fear or strife. 
 His spirit ample as the skies 
 Encompasses the common life. 
 
 His friendly soul finds friendliness 
 Wherever chance his lot may throw ; 
 And his pure mind does none the less 
 Find purity in high and low. 
 
 And ever as he moves along 
 Naught that befalls him comes amiss, 
 Since this the secret of his song — 
 His inner life a poem is. 
 
 25 
 
ROM dawn to dark, a breath or two ; 
 A dream, a start, and night is through. 
 
 A cradle song, a grave side prayer- 
 And life and death our spirits share. 
 
 Which the better, or how we change. 
 That none can say is passing strange. 
 
 Nor do I doubt each serves us well, 
 Tho how or why I cannot tell. 
 
 26 
 
3 Am 
 
 AM. 
 
 Who more than I can say "I am"? 
 What to any being is greater than it is to me 
 to be the thing I am? 
 
 I am. 
 
 Was there in all the past, or is there now in the far 
 
 reaches of unbounded space, 
 A single life transcending mine in all that makes its 
 
 being dear unto itself? 
 
 I am. 
 
 Before the light of suns, or ever earth took shape, 
 And when existing things whirl to their doom, 
 I was and shall be there. 
 
 My beginning and continuance abide in the nature of 
 things. 
 
 I am. 
 
 Yesterday and the far to-morrow I may not grasp. 
 Remotest causes rising to undreamed of results per- 
 meate me. 
 
 I am. 
 
 Not a thing separate, nor to pass unacknowledged, 
 
 But as much to all as each or any. 
 
 27 
 
I am. 
 
 Within my being wrapt and still lies vastest mystery 
 Which to my lonely moments whispers things I may not, 
 cannot tell. 
 
 I am. 
 
 And to regret or to distrust whatever thing I am, 
 
 Were to profane whatever else exists. 
 
 28 
 
Il^rntam 
 
 |e's a hero, who can stand 
 In solitary ways 
 Fronting with a courage grand 
 Uneventful days, 
 Living on when hope is gone ; 
 Bravely toiling all alone; 
 Doing what must needs be done 
 With no thought of praise. 
 
 He's a hero, tho his name 
 
 And high endeavor, 
 On the great world's scroll of fame 
 
 Are written never. 
 In some unsuspected place, 
 With a real heroic grace. 
 Meeting failure face to face. 
 
 Undaunted ever. 
 
SONG for the wretched outcast 
 
 Whom an angry mob condemn, 
 The man whose good is forgotten 
 In the evil thoughts of men. 
 A song for the lonely leader 
 
 Whose thinking outruns the day, 
 Who clings to his own ideal 
 Whatever the world may say. 
 
 A song for him who has fallen 
 
 In a cause few dared to serve, 
 Who knew he must fail at starting 
 
 But was not the man to swerve. 
 A song for the right out-voted. 
 
 The wrong made right by decree. 
 And men who to such mean makeshifts 
 
 Bend never the coward knee. 
 
 A song how the cruel thorn-crown, 
 
 The cross and the poison-bowl — 
 A song how the dungeon tortures 
 
 Are scorned by a steadfast soul. 
 A song how the fallen conquer, 
 
 How the seeming gain is lost, 
 When ages revise false values 
 
 And we learn what truth has cost. 
 
(Silt l^autH 0f tl^r Motli 
 
 s DOWN the open way I go 
 
 A thousand things are dear, 
 A fine companionship I know 
 In all I see and hear. 
 
 My mistress is the buxom wind, 
 I taste the breath of showers. 
 
 To me the whisp'ring leaves are kind, 
 And sweet the lips of flowers. 
 
 The drowsy kine turn friendly eyes, 
 
 They know me as I pass. 
 I find a welcome in the skies. 
 
 Another in the grass. 
 
 A kinship closer than of blood 
 
 Holds me to all the earth. 
 When once their use is understood 
 
 The rankest weeds have worth. 
 
 The roots of grasses by the spring 
 Call me to share their drink. 
 
 And mid the forest's shadowing 
 Birds tell me all they think. 
 
 31 
 
I have not found the wide world o'er 
 
 A thing to scorn as mean, 
 Their beauties charm me all the more 
 
 The deeper I have seen. 
 
 I am at home with everything 
 And show them all my heart; 
 
 Their myriad-voiced whispering 
 The finest thoughts impart. 
 
 On mountain top, mid prairie's sweep. 
 
 Or near the thund'ring sea. 
 How friendly arms around me creep 
 And hold me tenderly! 
 
 32 
 
SIT Upon the shore of night 
 And search my soul to see, 
 
 As now the day sinks from my sight, 
 What it has done for me: 
 
 Lives there in me to-night 
 
 More tenderness and might 
 
 Because of all that did befall to-day? 
 
 Am I a stronger man 
 
 With heart more kind, and can 
 
 I face the night with fearless sight? 
 
 Hide not from me the wrong I've done, 
 Nor let me be. Great Night, as one 
 Who is content, if I've misspent my day. 
 
 I want no joy that brings 
 
 With it the shame of things 
 
 Unmerited. But choose instead 
 
 To face the awful fact 
 
 Of what, by word or act, 
 
 Has weakened me. Oh, let me see to-night 
 
 How, from the wreck of what is past, 
 
 I may achieve at last 
 
 A life complete. 
 
 33 
 
Be this my evening prayer— 
 That now and ever, there 
 May come to me no shame 
 Of what I tried to be. 
 
 34 
 
|hy inmost thought, thy quenchless pure desire, 
 Thy dream of good to be, 
 Thy sense of what in life or love were best. 
 Thy vast awakening need, 
 The deepening consciousness of what completes thy life — 
 This, this is God. 
 
 All that the open eye delights to see, 
 All that, alert, the ear may revel in, 
 All that to taste or touch brings ecstasy, 
 All satisfactions: health, leisure, work and sleep, 
 All human joys born of the passing day — 
 This, this is God. 
 
 What meanings fill the hour nor breed distaste, 
 
 What sympathies make sorrow sweeter far than tearless 
 nights. 
 
 What high ambition quickens us to faithfulness no fail- 
 ure can o'ercome, 
 
 What admirations still allure us on — 
 This, this is God. 
 
 In life of man all heroism lost to human sight, 
 In world of haste and tumult brave and quiet lives. 
 In loneliness and want the uncomplaining heart, 
 In courts and palaces the kindly, simple mind, 
 
 35 
 
In prison cage the outcast soul unbroken by the reck- 
 lessness of legal courts, 
 
 In dens of lust the heart's revolt 'gainst aught not born 
 of love — 
 
 This, this is God. 
 
 Whate'er is done to break whate'er enchains, 
 Whatever soul disdains the crowd's applause, 
 Whatever thought awakes the slumb'ring world tho but 
 
 to kill 
 Whatever thinker dare to spoil their rest, 
 Whatever else that serves the afterborn — 
 This, this is God. 
 
 The light that burns so dim so long in savage breasts. 
 
 The light howe'er at times obscured by doubt or shroud- 
 ed 'neath the dust of coarse neglect, 
 
 The light of which so oft the fuel is some. wild prophet's 
 secret tears. 
 
 The light so framed about with lacquered altar-ware 
 'tis barely seen. 
 
 The light: the mystic light that will show all in time 
 we now but guess — 
 This, this is God. 
 
 36 
 
A iag at a Wxmt 
 
 iFE is for those who love it, 
 
 A brave and goodly thing ; 
 But all its worth we give it, 
 And all its loss we bring. 
 
 We may not spurn the knowing 
 No day is ours for long. 
 
 And each must have its strewing 
 Of sorrow and of song. 
 
 Give each day all thy heart then. 
 
 Live freely in the whole. 
 Let glad and sad have part then. 
 
 In building up thy soul! 
 
 37 
 
AM more than the flesh that enshrouds me, 
 I am more than the thoughts I possess. 
 
 I am kin to the highest above me, 
 I am kin to the lowest no less. 
 
 And I win by my love from all being 
 The gift that each thing can bestow. 
 
 For as great as the sight is the seeing; 
 Transcending the known is to know. 
 
 As the light of the sun in the rain mist, 
 As the stars reflect in the sea ; 
 
 So what to my wonder seems vastest 
 Is but a reflection from me. 
 
 And all things that my spirit revereth, 
 
 All grandeurs my heart would enshrine, 
 
 By command of the silence that heareth, 
 Already forever were mine. 
 
 38 
 
|hou Living Christ, the variant echoes of whose 
 voice the crowds repeat, 
 Look on this son of those who named thee 
 mad, refused thy word, 
 And scorned the daring few who gave thee faith ; 
 Love I not thee the more for that I am content 
 To worship so in quiet emulation of thy deeds ? 
 
 Outcast am I from all their gilded fanes 
 And counted lost because I cannot say "I thus and thus 
 believe." 
 
 So long thy truth they toss from lip to lip. 
 
 So much they murmur it to charm the ear 
 
 Enamoured of what all are pleased to say ; 
 
 The honest mockery that was thy death I more esteem 
 
 Than this established worship of thy name. 
 
 Oh, how I pity those who cannot find the living Christ 
 In ways obscure, in daily duties so joyfully done 
 They grow delightful privilege, in kind, forgiving, 
 
 thoughts 
 That lift stained souls toward purity and peace. 
 In words withholden tho we burn to speak 
 Till after thoughts give kindlier words their place! 
 
 39 
 
Fain would I gather these priest-burdened ones 
 
 Beside the open sea, or where the granite hills 
 
 Move us to pray, to where the soul of each 
 
 Finds room to grow and gain the ways of God, 
 
 To where each feels anointed but to bless. 
 
 And all forget how they themselves may yet be saved. 
 
El^t dintxpttsB'xbU 
 
 Something tells me thou didst waken 
 
 With the earth from ancient night, 
 And life's upward path hast taken 
 Mounting to the spirit's height. 
 Something says thy deep indwelling 
 
 Is the life within the sod, 
 And that all things are but telling, 
 Life is love and love is God ! 
 
 All in vain I try to name thee, 
 
 Tender words and strong I speak, 
 And I feel thy beauty shame me, 
 
 And my words seem false and weak — 
 Till all words my heart refusing 
 
 Waits for wisdom more benign. 
 And I lose myself in musing. 
 
 Life is love and love is mine! 
 
 What thou art mind may not measure, 
 
 May not weigh nor analyze, 
 Yet the heart of man can treasure 
 
 What beyond his reason lies. 
 Nameless wonder, self-revealing. 
 
 Silence far surpassing song, 
 I am satisfied with feeling 
 
 Thou art love and love is strong! 
 
3(n tlj^ Bxltntt 
 
 LEARN of my soul in the silence 
 Wisdom no words can express. 
 
 I find I am master of forces 
 I had not dreamed I possess. 
 
 The beauty I see in the silence, 
 It robes with glory all things, 
 
 And the joy it brings to my spirit 
 Raises me up as on wings. 
 
 I know who I am in the silence, 
 Perfect assurance is mine. 
 
 I sense in the oneness of being 
 All that I am is divine. 
 
 From out of the silence I carry. 
 Making its blessing complete, 
 
 The power to see through the seeming 
 One life in all that I meet. 
 
 I bring from the silence my message, 
 And speak as it gives me voice — 
 
 My word to the uttermost creature 
 Is only the word, " rejoice." 
 
Eift (HcBmit BbuI 
 
 NTO the pure and true all living things reveal 
 the pure and true. 
 Thy foot can never wander from the path 
 Into untrodden ways where God is not. 
 Only ourselves His presence hindereth, 
 Only our bitterness and scorn, 
 Our base neglect, our faithlessness. 
 
 All things but mirror back to us the hidden self. 
 
 The God hath first His place in consciousness, in con- 
 science too, 
 
 In every deep desire of the mind, and in the things to 
 which we yield our heart. 
 
 Ourselves give meaning to reality, or make it meaning- 
 less and bare. 
 
 The cosmic soul waits to be bodied forth in earnest, 
 faithful lives. 
 
 We all may give in every word and act an added con- 
 firmation of the truth 
 
 That in the life of man abides the power divine. 
 
 Seek not in ways remote from life to find 
 
 The truth thou leavest unheeded at thine own hearthside. 
 
 Thou canst not separate from matters gross and mean 
 
 43 
 
The spirit's finest gift 
 
 Who once hath seen the light finds everywhere its trace. 
 
 All arguments may fail, all formal creeds prove false, 
 
 Only the limping soul needs logic's crutch; 
 
 While to the pure in heart the very air breathes 
 
 And the very ground pulses with truth. 
 
 Nature and God within man's heart are one. 
 
 This inner unity remains to be interpreted in terms of 
 
 common life. 
 So shall the cosmic soul be perfected in us. 
 
45 
 
46 
 
HIS I believe, that God is all in all, 
 That now we live amid divinest things ; 
 Only our blindness shuts us from the truth 
 That here upon the common earth is Heaven. 
 
 We need more clearness of our inward sense. 
 More purity of heart, more sympathy; 
 More childlike joy in free abandonment 
 To all that beautifies the passing day— 
 So shall we feel how good it is to live, 
 To be one glad thing more exulting in the freedom of 
 the earth. 
 
 And I believe, there is no cause 
 
 Of evil but our own distrust and fear ; 
 
 No darkness but the blindness of our heart. 
 
 There is no sin our brother may commit 
 
 That should not make more clear his need of us. 
 
 There is no sorrow, no bitter loss or shame 
 
 But calls for love. 
 
 And this is Christ, each yearning of our soul 
 
 To bless and save the meanest of mankind. 
 
 Obeying so each noble, manly thought, 
 We grow to God ; and this, at last, will be 
 Our triumph over death, that we have served 
 The purposes of life and through our heart 
 Immortal love has moved upon the world. 
 
Exjt^rtatirg 
 
 HOLD my breath 
 
 And hush my very thought 
 
 In deep expectancy .... 
 
 As one who inland listens to the sea, 
 
 Or with his ear to earth can tell the tread of marching 
 
 men, 
 Attentive I 
 
 I feel the ages ripening into bloom, 
 
 Within the womb of time I sense the stirring of eternity ; 
 
 Instinct with love I know the hour has come