No Pilots We

WOULD I were one of those who preach no Cause —
Nor guide mankind with meddling fingertips;
But let each star that moves without a pause
Shine as it list — as potent when it dips
Beyond their ken in visual eclipse
As when it blazes in a darkling sky,
Regnant and beautiful, while with mute lips
Men bow the head in worship, or in shy
And inexpressive words admit that God is nigh.

We are no pilots: let us trust our bark,
Miraculous, alert, not made with hands,
That feels a magic impulse through the dark,
And leaps upon the course it understands
From shores unknown to unimagined strands;
Resists the helm we give it, but divines —
Being itself divine — divine commands;
And answers to no compass save the signs
Encircling deepest heaven where the Zodiac shines.