To Strive, To Seek, To Find: A Meditation
“We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
– Alfred, Lord Tennyson
The Shadowed Reality of Our Strength
There are hours in the deep watches of the night when silence itself grows oppressive, and one feels the quiet suffocate like a dark and heavy veil. In those hours, I think of Tennyson’s words, and in them, I hear the echo of eternity’s lament for mortal frailty.
We are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven. Our hands grow weary, our bones brittle beneath the indifferent passing of days. It is an ancient sorrow, to realise that the iron sinew of youth bends to rust, that the laughter of simpler times becomes a hushed whisper against the howl of coming storms.
Yet – that which we are, we are.
The Unyielding Heart
There lies in these words a wisdom worthy of Solomon: that though time robs the body of vigour, it cannot sap the dignity of a resolute heart. In life’s twilight, we are not the heroes of our beginnings, but the tempered souls of our endings. We are the steel forged by furnace and flood, beaten by fate but refusing to fracture.
For is it not written that the end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride? So too here: pride would mourn lost strength, but patience finds in weakness a deeper strength, the strength to remain unmoved, unbowed, and unbroken.
The Eternal Call
C.S. Lewis would remind us that this striving is not vain. The call to seek, to find, and not to yield is not merely an echo of human stubbornness, but a reflection of divine pursuit. For there is One who seeks us with greater fervour than we seek truth. And even as age dulls the sword-arm, it sharpens the spirit’s sight.
What It Means to Me
To me, these lines are a solemn comfort. They speak to my weary heart that even as shadows grow long and hope’s horizon recedes, I remain called to strive. I remain called to seek, to press against the veil of uncertainty, to reach out though the darkness answers only with silence. For there is strength yet in the trembling hand that will not let go of faith, and in the faltering voice that will not cease its prayer.
This is not resignation. This is a warrior’s resolve, a solemn vow before the gates of night:
To strive. To seek. To find.
And not to yield.
Final Reflection
So let the storm gather and the shadows lengthen. Let time strip from us the illusions of invincibility. For though we are made weak by time and fate, we remain equal in heroic temper, unbent in will.
We are not now what we were. But what we are is enough.