When I behold the golden lamps of night
Like high-swung censers smoldering in the depths
Of darkness measureless,
As if to light the way through endless space
For spinning sister worlds to navigate
Toward a destination felt, not seen,
I marvel at the might of Him who guides.
When I can feel beneath my burning feet
The cool green of the tender springing grass,
And in the chestnut buds
Can see the armoured sheath and woolly nest
Which guard th'incipient seed and spreading leaf,
I marvel at the lowliness of Him
Who stoops from stars to little blades of grass.
Knowing that not one mighty world that spins
Along th'uncharted pathway of the sky
Except at His behest,
And not one flower blows, not one bird sings,
Except His tender care has sheltered it,
How can I doubt His order and His law
Will govern me—His loving-kindness shield?
