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Home  »  The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse  »  349. On the Holy Trinity

Nicholson & Lee, eds. The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse. 1917.

John Gray (1866–1934)

349. On the Holy Trinity

ERE aught began,

Beyond the span

Of sense, the Word

(O priceless hoard!)

Was, which God fashioned in his youth.

O Fatherbreast,

Wherefrom, with zest,

The Word did bloom!

Yet did the womb

Retain the Word in very truth.

Of twain a fount,

Love paramount,

The double troth,

Known unto both,

The ever gentle Spirit flows.

Equal, and none

Can make but one;

One are the three;

Yet what it be

That triple spirit only knows.

The triple crown

Hath deep renown;

Ring without clasp

No sense can grasp,

It is a depth without a floor.

Is rest, is grace,

Shape, form and space;

The source, the ring

Of everything;

A point which never moveth more

To its abode

There is no road;

Curiously

It beareth thee

Into a desert strangely strange.

Is wide, is broad,

Unmeasured road;

The desert has

Nor time nor space,

Its way is wonderfully strange.

That desert plot

No foot hath trod;

Created wit

Ne’er came to it;

It is, and no man knoweth what.

Is there, is here,

Is far, is near,

Is deep, is high,

And none reply

Whether this thing be this or that.

Is light, is pure,

Is most obscure,

Nameless, alone,

It is unknown,

Free both of end and origin.

It standeth dark,

Is bare and stark;

Reveal his face

Who knows its place,

And say what fashion it is in.

Become a child,

Deaf, blind and mild;

Be eye and thought

Reduced to naught,

Self and negation driven back,

Space, time resign,

And every sign,

No leader hath

The narrow path,

So com’st thou to the desert track.

O soul, abroad,

Go in to God;

Sink as a yes

In nothingness,

Sink in unfathomable flood.

I fly from thee,

Thou greetest me;

Self left behind,

If I but find

Thee, O thou good of every good!