GOD.
Thou art a God ready to pardon, gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness.—Nehemiah, ix. 17.
The mighty God, even the Lord, hath spoken, and called the earth from the rising of the sun unto the going down thereof.
Our God shall come, and shall not keep silence.—Psalm l. 1, 3.
And it shall be said in that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, and he will save us: this is the Lord; we have waited for him, we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation.—Isaiah, xxv. 9.
To whom then will ye liken God? or what likeness will ye compare unto him?—Isaiah, xl. 18.
Prepare to meet thy God.—Amos, iv. 12.
God is a spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.—John, iv. 24.
Without controversy great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest in the flesh.—I. Timothy, iii. 16.
To God more glory, more good-will to men
From God, and over wrath shall grace abound.
Milton.
The heavens are a point from the pen of His perfection;
The world is a rosebud from the bower of His beauty;
The sun is a spark from the light of His wisdom;
And the sky a bubble on the sea of His power.
His beauty is free from stain of sin,
Hidden in a veil of thick darkness.
He formed mirrors of the atoms of the world,
And he cast a reflection from His own face on every atom!
To thy clear-seeing eye whatsoever is fair,
When thou regardest it aright, is a reflection from His face.
Jami, from the Persian.
O Thou, whose power o’er moving worlds presides,
Whose voice created and whose wisdom guides,
On darkling man in pure effulgence shine,
And cheer the clouded mind with light divine!
’Tis Thine alone to calm the pious breast,
With silent confidence, and holy rest;
From Thee, great God! we spring—to Thee we tend,
Path, Motive, Guide, Original, and End.
Dr. Johnson.
Not God alone in the still calm we find,
He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind.
Pope.
The God that rules on high,
That all the earth surveys,
That rides upon the stormy sky,
And calms the roaring seas—
This awful God is ours,
Our Father and our love;
He will send down His heavenly powers
To carry us above.
Watts.
Spirit whose life-sustaining presence fills
Air, ocean, central depths by man untried,
Thou for Thy worshippers hast sanctified
All place, all time! The silence of the hills
Breathes veneration: founts and choral rills
Of Thee are murmuring:—to its inmost glade
The living forest with Thy whisper thrills,
And there is holiness in every shade.
Mrs. Hemans.
On earth there’s not a creature
Too small, dear God, for Thee:
Thou gav’st them form and feature,
And Thine they aye must be.
For Thee the bird sings,
For Thee the fish springs,
For Thee the bee hums,
The gold-beetle drums,
The little mouse pipes clear and fine;—
We all are Thine, dear Lord; but Thine!
Clemens Brentano.
There is no God,—the fool in secret said;
There is no God that rules on earth or sky;
Tear off the band that folds the wretched head,
That God may burst upon his faithless eye.
Is there no God?—the stars in myriads spread,
If he look up, the blasphemy deny,
Whilst his own features, in the mirror read,
Reflect the image of Divinity.
Is there no God?—the silver stream that flows,
The air he breathes, the ground he treads, the trees,
The flowers, the grass, the sands, each wind that blows,
All speak of God; throughout one voice agrees,
And eloquent His dread existence shows:
Blind to thyself, ah! see Him, fool, in these.
Anon.
My God, to Thee belong
Incense of praise and hallowed song;
To Thee be all the glory given
Of all my mercies under heaven;
From Thee my daily bread and health,
Each comfort, all my spirit’s wealth,
Have been derived;—my sins alone,
And errings, I can call mine own.
Walker.
What secret hand, at morning light,
By stealth unseals mine eye,
Draws back the curtain of the night,
And opens earth and sky?
’Tis Thine, my God—the same that kept
My resting hours from harm;
No ill came nigh me, for I slept
Beneath the Almighty’s arm.
’Tis Thine—my daily bread that brings,
Like manna scattered round,
And clothes me, as the lily springs
In beauty from the ground.
J. Montgomery.
With years oppress’d, with sorrows worn,
Dejected, harass’d, sick, forlorn,
To Thee, O God, I pray;
To Thee my withered hands arise;
To Thee I lift my failing eyes:
Oh! cast me not away!
Sir R. Grant.
Who spoke creation into birth,
Arch’d the broad heavens, and spread the rolling earth;
Who form’d a pathway for the obedient sun,
And bade the seasons in their circles run;
Who fill’d the air, the forest, and the flood,
And gave man all for comfort, or for good.
Charles Sprague.