O MIGHTY preacher, heretic and saint,
Who liftest high thy soul above the fog
Of creed and ritual and the Cimmerian bog
Of dogma in whose quicksands strong men faint,
How hast thy soaring spirit 'scaped the taint
Of a material creed and risen to heights sublime,
O'erleaping the strong fence of space and time
In bold attempts the ways of God to paint?
Such strength is given by Him who knows all hearts,
Who sets for each the limits of his scope,
Who hath endowed thee with a prescience rare,
To see things as they are, in whole, not parts,
And filled thee with the love and faith and hope
Of those who feel the Master's special care.