by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Unnumbered gods may unremembered die;
A thousand creeds may perish and pass by;
Yet do I lift mine eyes to ONE on high.
Unnamed be HE from whom creation came;
There is no word whereby to speak His name
But petty men have mouthed it into shame.
I lift mine eyes, and with a river’s force
My love’s full tide goes sweeping on its course
To that supreme and all-embracing Source.
Then back through all those thirsting channels roll
The mighty billows of the Over Soul.
And I am He, the portion and the Whole.
As little streams before the flood-tide flee,
As rivers vanish to become the sea,
The I exists no more, for I AM HE.