Ancient of days, my simple father's God,
Of substance—All;
My mother's Hope,—the stars obey thy nod:
Thou that dost call
Orion forth from out the chambered east!
Thou that dost seal
The firmament! Who art an endless feast
To them that feel
For thee one constant, evergrowing need:—
Sufficient thou
For ev'ry day and hour. Thy love my creed.
Meekly I bow
In gratefulness. In thee alone my heart
Life's perfect calm
Doth know. For sorrow's hurt, dear Lord, thou art
Eternal Balm.
Hate's antidote! In thee no pain, nor care,
Nor thought of ill:—
Thy Strength in weakness perfect is; my prayer,—
to do thy will.
