My period had come for Prayer—
No other Art—would do—

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My Tactics missed a rudiment—
Creator—Was it you?

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God grows above—so those who pray
Horizons—must ascend—
And so I stepped upon the North
To see this Curious Friend—

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His House was not—no sign had He—
By Chimney—nor by Door
Could I infer his Residence—
Vast Prairies of Air

Unbroken by a Settler—
Were all that I could see—
Infinitude—Had’st Thou no Face
That I might look on Thee?

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The Silence condescended—

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Creation stopped—for Me—

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But awed beyond my errand—
I worshipped—did not “pray”—

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