y quickened sense can only plod.
Imagination waves its rod,
My spirit burns with lightning splendor,
Emotive faith tastes the bread of God.
As moves the wind on sightless wings,
Nor shadow o'er the landscape flings,
While seas to chafe of foam are beaten,
And plectrum sweeps all the forest strings;
So through the world doth Spirit move,
And presence by His working prove,—
A mystery of might and music,
A lonelihood of eternal love.
hat Nature mirrors and reveals—
The purblind vision it unseals
To sight of awesome Presence holy,
That chastens sore ere He soothes and heals,—
The reign of law, with ethic rule
E'en in the breast of idle fool,
(As moon and stars are heavenly pictured
Within the breast of a noisome pool)—
Herein is claim of Nature's worth.
Though I forget the forms of earth,
Of gilded cloud and circling planet,
I know His fire lives within their girth.