1 The "churches" here below, so narrow bound,
Reach not the hungry throngs which us surround;
They run partway with truth, but miss the goal.
Earth-vision blurred and dim, their eyes doth hold —
2 Brothers with brothers have not all one heart,
In wrath they turn away and walk apart,
Who from one stream of life had common birth.
What fight for forms! O'er doctrines what vain strife!
3 "Where is the truth?" I asked; for this I longed:
None answered right 'mid all the answering throng;
For ever side by side lay light and shade.
"Where is," I cried, "the one communion pure?
4 So sought I long, and hopeless was my quest;
These eyes grew dim and blind and found no rest,
Till God's touch opened them, and I was freed.
I found the Spirit's Church in souls made one
5 Thus when I see this small world's narrow thought,
Behold the brother not with brother brought,
Yet serving Christ — as each one deemeth right —
Ah, then a voice from realms of glory calls,
6 No more we put that query without end,
To which self-chosen church our feet did trend —
What doctrine we believed, what sacred rites.
In Christ we were in bonds that nought could break;
7 No longer does one heed mere formal phrase,
Or seek for others' creeds through winding maze,
For in Himself was truth made manifest.
And out of every tongue and every land