The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4.
John Greenleaf Whittier, Ed.

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[55]
     The binding of the spirit broken,
The warning to the erring spoken,
     The comfort of the sad,
The eye to see, the hand to cull
     Of common things the beautiful,
The absent heart made glad
     By simple gift or graceful token
Of love it needs as daily food,
     All own one Source, and all are good!
Hence, tracking sunny cove and reach,
     Where spent waves glimmer up the beach,
And toss their gifts of weed and shell
     From foamy curve and combing swell,
No unbefitting task was thine
     To weave these flowers so soft and fair
In unison with His design
     Who loveth beauty everywhere;
And makes in every zone and clime,
     In ocean and in upper air,
‘All things beautiful in their time.’

For not alone in tones of awe and power
     He speaks to man;
The cloudy horror of the thunder-shower
     His rainbows span;
And where the caravan
     Winds o'er the desert, leaving, as in air
The crane-flock leaves, no trace of passage there,
     He gives the weary eye
The palm-leaf shadow for the hot noon hours,
     And on its branches dry
Calls out the acacia's flowers;
     And where the dark shaft pierces down