Mr. Faust - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
My whole heart's toil is how to merit it Even a little.
SATAN (_raising his hand to bless_)
By the grace of G.o.d You shall be worthy servant, O my son.
FAUST
This, then, is what G.o.d's vision-seers behold-- This revelation veiled unto mine eyes-- This love unfelt by me--this light of dawn Beyond our darkened night.... I was too far Estranged from Him, of too unworthy will, Bowed by too sore a burden....
[_The music of the organ rolls forth once more; and, at the far end of the nave, the choir takes up the music._
VOICES SINGING
From the waters of Zion, From the fountains of peace, Pour the floods on whose bosom Thy seeking shall cease.
There the winds of His garments Shall lull thee to rest.
There the night of His watching Shall enter thy breast.
Thou shalt sleep, and awaken; On His morrow, to be As a star in His heavens, A wave in His sea.
FAUST
With old, profound, unutterable grief My spirit speaks in me: as, many a time In childhood, at the hour of evening dusk, When all the room was still and shadowy, I, at my mother's knee, wept out my heart And knew not why I wept. And I am drawn Out of myself upon the music's tide, With nameless sorrowing, with childlike pain-- As though in careless play-hours of the day I had done hurt to someone that I loved.
Ah, I am homesick; and in all the world There is no knee at which I can weep out My loneliness. There is no breast of peace And silence and forgiveness for this child In any dusk-strewn chamber....
BRANDER
There is G.o.d!
FAUST
O G.o.d, can Thine arms fold me? Can my weight Of loneliness and failure and despair With the day's fruitage, find a child's release In Thy great tenderness? I am a child; And life's vast terrors gather round my soul; And I am frightened. I am weary, Lord!
It darkens; and the storms creep on with night; The shadows come; the wanderer would turn home.
[_Faust falls to his knees; he bows his head. Again the organ throbs, the choir sings._
VOICES SINGING
To His peace shalt thou yield thee; In His love shalt thou sleep; All the rills of thy valleys Shall merge in His deep.
To His hands shalt thou offer All hope thou hast known.
His hope and His glory Shall compa.s.s thine own.
And the vain stars of longing Shall fade in His sun; And the vain hand shall stay; And His Will Shall Be Done.
SATAN
Let us beside our brother kneel in prayer Beseeching mercy.
[_Satan and Brander kneel beside Faust._
BRANDER
Brother in the Lord, Let us together from devoted hearts Repeat: "Thy Will Be Done."
[_Faust continues to kneel in silence. The music ceases._
BRANDER
Faust, let us pray: "Father, we do beseech Thee for Thy light"...
SATAN
Brother, pray thus: "Thy Will Be Done"...
FAUST (_rising_)
What will?...
BRANDER
Faust!
FAUST
Lost is my way among eternal shadows.
Darkened is every light; and clouds are rolled With blackening curtain over all the stars Within my heaven. But I stand upright Now to the end, no traitor to that dawn I cannot image.
SATAN
What do you mean?
FAUST
Begone, Judas!...
Ah, Brander, would that I could yield Myself to Him who has received your burdens!
But to me seems it as another sleep, Like that Nirvana which I put aside In other gardens of temptation. Sleep-- Sleep that should have no waking--happy sleep-- An anodyne for which my spirit yearns But dare not take--a yielding to some Will, Whose Will, we know not, nor do greatly care So long it be not our will....
Thus may yield The weary; I am weary, but not yet To such last slumber. Thus may yield the base; I am not base. Thus may those spirits yield Who, poisoned by some madness in their blood, Despise life's being; but not yet will I So utterly despise it. Though in gulfs Of yet unsounded ruin I should die At the end miserably, I still shall seek In life itself my refuge: not in G.o.d That stands apart from life, on heights of peace.
All my desires, my visions, my dreams, my unrest, My loathing and my longing will I clutch And cry: "With all its bitterness on my head, _My Will_ be done, not Thy Will!"
BRANDER
Blasphemy!
Ah, Faust, what madness!...
FAUST
