Thou art, O God! the life and light Of all this wondrous world we see; Its glow by day, its smile by night, Are but reflections caught from Thee. Where’er we turn, Thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are Thine. When day, with farewell beam, delays, Among the opening clouds of even, And we can almost think we gaze Through golden vistas into heaven; Those hues that mark the sun’s decline, So soft, so radiant, Lord! are Thine. When night, with wings of starry gloom, O’ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes;— That sacred gloom, those fires Divine, So grand, so countless, Lord! are Thine. —Thomas Moore. |