The Cathedral, or the Catholic and Apostolic Church in England Second edition [by Isaac Williams] |
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 | The Cathedral, or the Catholic and Apostolic Church in England |  |
III.
Mysterious deeps of wisdom, dimly known,
Where fathom of man's thought ne'er touch'd the ground,
Who shall thy lessons reach, who shall descry
His steps of light, who in His boundless word
The wilderness of waters walks unseen?
In this Thy visible house, mankind's abode,
Thy hand withdraws from search of human ken,
Whene'er the depths we trace, there opes beyond
An inner world, where Science lifts her torch,
And wonder leads thro' new enchanted halls.
And glorious links we see of heavenly mould,
But cannot track the chain; Thyself, unseen,
Sittest behind the mighty wheel of things,
Which moves harmonious, tho' unheard below,
Save when Thine order'd ways, at intervals,
Break forth, as falling on some traveller's ear
Musical notes, which make the landscape smile.
Where fathom of man's thought ne'er touch'd the ground,
Who shall thy lessons reach, who shall descry
His steps of light, who in His boundless word
The wilderness of waters walks unseen?
In this Thy visible house, mankind's abode,
Thy hand withdraws from search of human ken,
Whene'er the depths we trace, there opes beyond
An inner world, where Science lifts her torch,
And wonder leads thro' new enchanted halls.
And glorious links we see of heavenly mould,
But cannot track the chain; Thyself, unseen,
Sittest behind the mighty wheel of things,
Which moves harmonious, tho' unheard below,
Save when Thine order'd ways, at intervals,
Break forth, as falling on some traveller's ear
Musical notes, which make the landscape smile.
The Hand that kindles up the rolling moon,
Lights up the worm's blue lamp beside our path;
And haply in Thy word there hidden lies
Infinity, coil'd up in narrowest bound;
We on the surface walk, and know it not.
Lights up the worm's blue lamp beside our path;
And haply in Thy word there hidden lies
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We on the surface walk, and know it not.
The bird, that sits and sings upon the thorn,
Knows not its Maker's wonders, known to man:
Man moves mid hidden things, to Angels known,
Nor knows of aught, around, above, beneath,
Where'er he turns, beside the path of life,
Enough on earth to know.—O send Thou forth
Thy Light and Truth from Thine unseen abodes,
That they may lead me to Thy Holy Hill.
Thou that hast made the heart and seeing eye,
Give me to know Thyself, of all things else
Let me be ignorant deem'd; for Thee to know
Is to know all that's good and fair below;—
Without Thee we are blind, but in Thee see
Thy multitude of mercy far and wide,
Thee good in all, and all things good in Thee.
Thee only none can seek and seek in vain:
Thus travelling thro' the world's lone desert way,
If, with that Ethiop stranger, o'er Thy word
I bend, Thy heav'n-sent guide is at my side.
Knows not its Maker's wonders, known to man:
Man moves mid hidden things, to Angels known,
Nor knows of aught, around, above, beneath,
Where'er he turns, beside the path of life,
Enough on earth to know.—O send Thou forth
Thy Light and Truth from Thine unseen abodes,
That they may lead me to Thy Holy Hill.
Thou that hast made the heart and seeing eye,
Give me to know Thyself, of all things else
Let me be ignorant deem'd; for Thee to know
Is to know all that's good and fair below;—
Without Thee we are blind, but in Thee see
Thy multitude of mercy far and wide,
Thee good in all, and all things good in Thee.
Thee only none can seek and seek in vain:
Thus travelling thro' the world's lone desert way,
If, with that Ethiop stranger, o'er Thy word
I bend, Thy heav'n-sent guide is at my side.
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