Created Light, O Sun, how gloriously
Thou shinest on our sorrows. Blessed be
Thy rays aslant our clouds, and blessed be
Thy warmth to give us comfort. Wearily
And joyless drags the life that lacketh thee.
But what of Light Internal? What may be
The glory of the spirit that can see
Light Uncreated, and not blinded be.
What of the spiritual Sun? Of thee,
Father of Light, the bright Refulgency.
Ah, if a world deprived of Light must be
Dark, lifeless, beauty-lacking - see,
A thing all writhing in deformity.
What, if a Spirit made for Light should be
No longer full of that Refulgency?
What, if the Light of reason, given to be
The true reflection of Divinity,
Should, through its power of freedom, turn and flee
From that its centre and perfection? See,
Lost then hath Light its own identity.
God's Holy Light no longer claims to be
The Light Angelic: Darkness claims to be
The light of Spirits that have fallen from Thee,
O King of Light and endless Purity -
Whose Light is Life and Immortality.
But then, if Thy created Light should be
Deprived of its created potency;
This power in all ways of reflecting Thee -
If loss of Light be death - then, verily,
Such loss is living death - unendingly.
O Light Angelic, lost for those who be
The partners in rebellion. Dark shall be
Their downward fate. All hope, all charity
With Light must be abandoned. Death must be
The woe in life from which they may not flee.
- text taken from Mary: The Perfect Woman, by Emily Mary Shapcote