He who has gazed upon the starry sky
Nights without number, and has learned to trace
The path of planets, and the majesty
And mystery of numbers numberless,
Knows his own nothingness—as dust so small—
And learns at length that "He is all in all."
He works His will in all the heavenly host,
And none can stay His hand, nor question bring,
Nor say, "What doest Thou?" The furthermost
Of heaven's white wonders known to angel's wing,
Flash but His glory, and adoring fall
Before His feet, for "He is all in all."
Beside Him is none else: and who shall stand
In His pure sight, who charged His saints with folly,
His stars with tainted purity? His hand
Sustains thee at this hour: His Spirit holy,
Like the white sunshine, is earth's coronal
Inscribed with Love, for "He is all in all."
