Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Omnipresence of God
Omnipresence of God.
Above—below—where'er I gaze,
Thy guiding finger, Lord, I view,
Traced in the midnight planets' blaze,
Or glistening in the morning dew;
Whate'er is beautiful or fair,
Is but Thine own reflection there.
Thy guiding finger, Lord, I view,
Traced in the midnight planets' blaze,
Or glistening in the morning dew;
Whate'er is beautiful or fair,
Is but Thine own reflection there.
I hear Thee in the stormy wind,
That turns the ocean wave to foam;
Nor less Thy wondrous power I find,
When summer airs around me roam;
The tempest and the calm declare
Thyself, for Thou art everywhere.
That turns the ocean wave to foam;
Nor less Thy wondrous power I find,
When summer airs around me roam;
The tempest and the calm declare
Thyself, for Thou art everywhere.
I find Thee in the depth of night,
And read Thy Name in every star
And read Thy Name in every star
That drinks its splendour from the light
That flows from mercy's beaming car;
Thy footstool, Lord, each starry gem
Composes—not Thy diadem.
That flows from mercy's beaming car;
Thy footstool, Lord, each starry gem
Composes—not Thy diadem.
And when the radiant orb of light
Hath tipped the mountain-tops with gold;
Smote with the blaze, my weary sight
Shrinks from the wonders I behold;
That ray of glory, bright and fair,
Is but Thy living shadow there.
Hath tipped the mountain-tops with gold;
Smote with the blaze, my weary sight
Shrinks from the wonders I behold;
That ray of glory, bright and fair,
Is but Thy living shadow there.
Thine is the silent gloom of night,
The twilight eve—the dewy mom;
Whate'er is beautiful and bright,
Thine hands have fashioned to adorn.
Thy glory walks in every sphere,
And all things whisper, "God is here!"
The twilight eve—the dewy mom;
Whate'er is beautiful and bright,
Thine hands have fashioned to adorn.
Thy glory walks in every sphere,
And all things whisper, "God is here!"