  O fountain of beauty, of gladness and light, Whose pathway is set in the infinite hight, Whose light hath no shadow, whose day hath no night! We know not thy birthplace, O wonderful one! We count not the ages through which thou hast run, But we render thee praises, O life-giving Sun. All day the glad Earth in thy loving embrace, Arrayed by thy bounty in garments of grace, Lifts up to thy glances her beautiful face. And at night, when her children need silence and rest, With the light of her starry-eyed sisterhood blest, She sleeps like a bride on thy cherishing breast. When the skylark springs up at the coming of morn, When the golden fringed curtains of night are withdrawn, Then blushing with beauty the day is new born. And the pulses of Nature in harmony bound, To the waves of thy glory which move without sound, And sweep unimpeded through spaces profound. Ay, the life-tide that leaps in the bird or the flower— The rainbow that gleams through the drops of the shower— O wonderful artist! are born of thy power. And the rush of the whirlwind, the roar of the deep, The cataract’s thunder, the avalanche-sweep, Are thy forces majestic, aroused from their sleep. Shall we wonder, that filled with devotion untold, The awe-stricken Parsee adored thee of old, Nor dreamed that One greater thy glory controlled? And He, the Eternal, the Ancient of Days— Whose splendors are veiled by inscrutable ways— Did he frown on such blindness, or envy thee praise? O Sun! in the light of whose presence we see, We ask,—canst thou tell us?—what caused us to be? And how are we linked to creation and thee? We must perish—but thou, by thy wonderful powers, Wilt rescue from darkness these bodies of ours, And fashion them over to verdure and flowers. But the jewel of beauty in life’s golden bowl— O, answer us—say—dost thou also control That Infinite Essence, the life of the soul? There is doubt, there is darkness and fear in our cry: Dost thou drink up the pearl of our lives when we die? We listen—but silence alone makes reply. It is well—for our spirits may know by the sign, That a might hath evoked thee far greater than thine, And we must seek Truth at life’s innermost shrine. That Centre of Being, transcending all thought, Whose might hath perfection of beauty outwrought, Returns the great answer of peace which we sought. And we know, when the race of the planets is run, And the day shall no longer behold thee, O Sun! Our souls shall find light with that Infinite One. O Source of all Being! whose name everywhere Is sung in hosannas, or murmured in prayer, We trust, unreserving, our souls to thy care. |
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