Sacra Poesis | ||
27
CONTEMPLATION.
Nature speaks in every thingOf her everlasting King.
Dreadful,—as the thundercrash,
Present,—as the light'ning flash,
Glorious,—as the worlds on high,
Tranquil,—as the summer sky,
Pow'rful,—as the stormy wind,
Inconceivable,—as mind,
Tender,—as the turtle dove,
Loving,—nay, “His name is Love.”
Sacra Poesis | ||