Classic Poem

Hail , Thou great mysterious Being!
Thou, the unseen yet All-seeing,
To Thee we call.
How can a mortal sing thy praise,
Or speak of all thy wondrous ways,
God over all?

God of the great old solemn woods,
God of the desert solitudes
And trackless sea;
God of the crowded city vast,
God of the present and the past,
Can man know Thee?

God of the blue vault overhead,
Of the green earth on which we tread,
Of time and space;
God of the worlds which Time conceals,
God of the worlds which Death reveals
To all our race.

God of the glorious realms of thought,
From which some simple hearts have caught
A ray divine;
And the songs which rouse the nations,
And the terrible orations,
Lord God, are thine.

All varied forms of beauty rare
That toiling genius molds with care —
Yea, the sublime —
Those sculptured busts of joy and woe —
By Thee were fashion'd, long ago,
In that far clime.

Far above earth, and space, and time,
Thou dwellest in Thy heights sublime;
Beneath Thy feet
The rolling worlds, the heavens, are spread;
Glory infinite round Thee shed,
Where angels meet.

From out Thy wrath the Earthquakes leap
To shake the world's foundations deep,
Till Nature groans;
In agony the Mountains call,
And Ocean bellows throughout all
Her frighten'd zones.

But where Thy smile its glory sheds,
The lilies lift their lovely heads,
And the primrose rare;
And the daisy, deck'd with pearls
Richer than the proudest earls
On their mantles wear.

These, thy preachers of the wild-wood,
Keep they not the heart of childhood
Fresh within us still?
'Spite of all our life's sad story,
There are gleams of Thee and glory
In the daffodil.

Nature's secret heart rejoices,
And the rivers lift their voices,
And the sounding sea;
And the mountains, old and hoary,
With their diadems of glory,
Shout, Lord, to Thee!

Yet, tho' Thou art high and holy,
Thou dost love the poor and lowly
With love divine.
Love infinite! love supernal!
Love undying! love eternal!
Lord God, are thine!