THE BRIDGE | AdventAI

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 20, 1859

THE BRIDGE.

[Translated from Victor Hugo's last work, "Les Contemplations."]

Darkness around me fell, and far before, Stretched the abyss which hath no end nor shore, Gloomy, immense, and without life or sound; My soul seemed lost in the vast depths profound, Through the dark veil impenetrable, far, I saw the Eternal as a burning star. Then cried I, "O my soul! alas, my soul! To cross this gulf, to reach this night that goal, A bridge on millions arches thou must rear! What mortal hath the power? Not one." Grief, fear, And horror seized me. Then before me there, A phantom stood, as angel pure and fair, In form it seemed a tear, but as I gazed, It grew in beauty, and I saw amazed An infant's hands and lovely virgin face, Seeming a lily whose own spotless grace Defends from harm. From its joined hands shone light, It pointed to the abyss of fearful night— The gulf whose sullen depths e'en echo stilled— And said—"The bridge thou needest I will build." Toward the form I turned with doubting air; "What is thy name?" I asked. It answered, "Prayer!"

[Sel.]