For birth hath in itself the germ of death,
But death hath in itself the germ of birth.
It is the falling acorn buds the tree,
The falling rain that bears the greenery,
The fern-plants moulder when the ferns arise.
For there is nothing lives but something dies,
And there is nothing dies but something lives.
But Francis Thompson's most entirely mystical utterance is the famous
Ode--_The Hound of Heaven_--where he pictures with a terrible vividness
and in phrase of haunting music the old mystic idea of the Love
chase.[83] It is the idea expressed by Plotinus when he says, "God ...
is present with all things, though they are ignorant that He is so. For
they fly from Him, or rather from themselves. They are unable,
therefore, to apprehend that from which they fly" (_Ennead_, vi. Sec. 7).
We see the spirit of man fleeing in terror "down the nights and down the
days" before the persistent footsteps of his "tremendous Lover," until,
beaten and exhausted, he finds himself at the end of the chase face to
face with God, and he realises there is for him no escape and no
hiding-place save in the arms of God Himself.
The voices of the English poets and writers form but one note in a
mighty chorus of witnesses whose testimony it is impossible for any
thoughtful person to ignore.
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