Hymns of a Hermit.

Hymn VII.


Thou, Lord ! who rear’st the moun-
tains’ height,
And makest the cliffs with sunshine [bright ;2
Oh, grant that I may own thy hand3
No less in every grain of sand !4


With forests huge of dateless time5
Thy will has hung each peak sublime ;6
But wither’d leaves beneath a tree,7
Have tongues that tell us loud of Thee.8


While clouds to clouds through ages call,9
Thou pour’st the thundering waterfall ;10
But every silent drop of dew11
Reflects thy order’d world to view.12


In all the immense, the strange, and old,13
Thy presence careless men behold ;14
In all the little, weak, and mean,15
By faith be Thou as clearly seen.16


Thou teach that not a leaf can grow17
Till life from Thee within it flow ;18
That not a speck of dust can be,19
O Fount of Being ! save by Thee.20


Instruct my soul, by shows distraught21
Too vast and loud for peaceful
That every quiet mote and gleam,23
With Thee to musing spirits beam.24


Inspire me, Thou, in every glance25
Of all our dreams confuse as chance,26
In every change of mortal things27
To see a power from Thee that springs ;28


In every human word and deed,29
Each flash of feeling, will, or creed,30
To know a plan ordain’d above,31
Begun and ending all in love.32


So smallest bubbles here on earth33
With me shall claim a heavenly birth,34
And each faint atom passing by35
Seem bright with thine eternal eye.36


So best we learn what light sublime37
Is hid within the clouds of time,38
Whose darkness, dreadful though it be,39
From those who seek conceals not Thee.40