Classic Poem

Mighty Thor has gone to battle
With the giants of the Frost;
In his god-like strength contending,
Single-handed, 'gainst a host.

Heard ye not the clash and clamour,
Wind with wind in deadly strife;
Battle-cries and roar of conflicts,
Where the Dark Ones fought for life?

Heard ye not the great Miolner
Thundering o'er the din of war;
Striking lightning from the storm-cloud? —
Dreadful in his wrath is Thor!

Then the strong ones fled in terror,
Henceforth fear we not their worst;
For their giant strength is broken,
And their icy chains are burst

Joy to all! great Thor hath triumphed;
Victory and light are won;
And the victor doffs his armour,
Girding robes of triumph on.

Hail him in the joy of triumph,
Gazing in his love and pride
Where, in trembling mists infolded,
Beams his own enfranchised bride!

And the streams his blows unfettered,
Greet him with the dance and song:
Beautiful is Thor in triumph,
As in battle he is strong.


Beautiful art thou, O Nature!
Glorious art thou, O Sun!
Many are the names we call you,
Yet the homage is but one.

Hearts o'erflowing into worship,
With the sense that ye are fraught
With a Presence and a Purpose
Passing human word or thought;

Thinking of the Hand that made you,
Makes and keeps you so divine;
Every stone becomes an altar,
Every blade of grass a shrine;

Worlds of art in every insect,
Miracles in every clod:
For beyond man's master-pieces
Is the simplest work of God.