He, acute to what meekly
By that mighty
Feels, in the God of Heaven
As o'ershadowed
Can only shudder before this!
Casts glooms! Cloud-browed!
Majestic! Imperious!
And the focus
Of whose new faith, down from off
Persuade none can.
For sheer force of being, out all
Draws the pagan.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem