The world, but not selfhood, thou canst see;
How long in thy ignorance wilt thou sit?
With thy ancient flame let the night be lit?
The hand of Moses is sleeved in thee.

Set forth thy foot from the circling skies;
Greater and older than these thou art;
Fearest thou death in thy deathless heart?
Death’s but a prey that before thee lies.

Life, once given thee, none can take;
‘Tis for lake of faith men faint and die;
Learn to be sculptor, even as I,
And haply anew thy selfhood make!