previous next

[260] Yet, O Lord, through all a sense
     Of Thy tender providence
Stays my failing heart on Thee,
     And confirms the feeble knee;
And, at times, my worn feet press
     Spaces of cool quietness,
Lilied whiteness shone upon
     Not by light of moon or sun.
Hours there be of inmost calm,
     Broken but by grateful psalm,
When I love Thee more than fear Thee,
     And Thy blessed Christ seems near me,
With forgiving look, as when
     He beheld the Magdalen.
Well I know that all things move
     To the spheral rhythm of love,
That to Thee, O Lord of all!
     Nothing can of chance befall:
Child and seraph, mote and star,
     Well Thou knowest what we are!
Through Thy vast creative plan
     Looking, from the worm to man,
There is pity in Thine eyes,
     But no hatred nor surprise.
Not in blind caprice of will,
     Not in cunning sleight of skill,
Not for show of power, was wrought
     Nature's marvel in Thy thought.
Never careless hand and vain
     Smites these chords of joy and pain;
No immortal selfishness
     Plays the game of curse and bless:
Heaven and earth are witnesses
     That Thy glory goodness is.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.

An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.

hide Places (automatically extracted)

View a map of the most frequently mentioned places in this document.

Download Pleiades ancient places geospacial dataset for this text.

hide People (automatically extracted)
Sort people alphabetically, as they appear on the page, by frequency
Click on a person to search for him/her in this document.
Christ (1)
Robert Child (1)
hide Display Preferences
Greek Display:
Arabic Display:
View by Default:
Browse Bar: