We have been hasty to leap o'er the years
That fashioned our own being, we have been
All Mind, that could not shed e'en little tears
For what we'd see no more - for the unseen
Of Mystery hath hurt this morn my eyes
With weepings of past days, with hours gone by
With neither haste nor hurry 'neath the skies
Of yesterday and yesterday's dim cry.
I heard within the cloud that covered us
In burning wings the things that will not go
As quickly as we think, and list'ning thus
I heard the yearns of some who once did know
The pull of ancient grace, the face of God,
The tremor that bid man here step unshod.
Tridentine Mass