63
L. M.
God in all.
There’s nothing bright, above, below,
From flowers that bloom to stars that glow,
But in its light my soul can see
Some features of the Deity.
2 There’s nothing dark below, above,
But in its gloom I trace thy love,
And meekly wait the moment when
Thy touch shall make all bright again.
3 The light, the dark, where’er I look,
Shall be one pure and shining book,
Where I may read, in words of flame,
The glories of thy wondrous name.
Moore.