⁠We see not if shipwreck reign in the storm's dim shrine;
If death do service and doom bear witness to thee
⁠We see not,—know not if blood for thy lips be wine.

But in all things evil and fearful that fear may scan,
⁠As in all things good, as in all things fair that fall,
We know thee present and latent, the lord of man;
⁠In the murmuring of doves, in the clamouring of winds that call
⁠And wolves that howl for their prey; in the midnight's pall,
In the naked and nymph-like feet of the dawn, O Pan,
⁠And in each life living, O thou the God who art all.

Smiling and singing, wailing and wringing of hands,
⁠Laughing and weeping, watching and sleeping, still
Proclaim but and prove but thee, as the shifted sands
⁠Speak forth and show but the strength of the sea's wild will