Chapter VIII: Part I: Aspiration

(1820-1854)

I go to prove my soul!
I see my way as birds their trackless way.
I shall arrive--what time, what circuit first,
I ask not; but unless God send his hail
Or blinding fire-balls, sleet, or stifling snow,
In some time, his good time, I shall arrive:
He guides me and the bird. In his good time.
BROWNING: _Paracelsus_.