One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads Original, and suitable for music [by Jean Ingelow] |
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THE MILKY WAY. |
 | One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads |  |
115
THE MILKY WAY.
“Verily Thou art a God that hidest Thyself, O God of
Israel, the Saviour.”
The summer night draws near its noon;
The wheat fields rustle nigh;
A golden reaping-hook—the moon
Hangs like a sign on high.
The wheat fields rustle nigh;
A golden reaping-hook—the moon
Hangs like a sign on high.
As if to mind us of His care,
Who guides the worlds o'erhead,
Yet gives us in His heart a share,
And thinks upon our bread.
Who guides the worlds o'erhead,
Yet gives us in His heart a share,
And thinks upon our bread.
Sign to them sent, whose marvelling eyes
Pierce to thought's outmost bars,
Where faint, because of farness, lies
Light, as the dust of stars.
Pierce to thought's outmost bars,
Where faint, because of farness, lies
Light, as the dust of stars.
My dazzled thoughts toward it strain,
Where bedded deep in space,
All twisted like a house-wife's skein
The myriads interlace;
Where bedded deep in space,
All twisted like a house-wife's skein
The myriads interlace;
Wonderful suns! a nameless mote,
No more, is each to me;
Wonderful worlds that round them float,
Led forth, great God, of Thee.
No more, is each to me;
Wonderful worlds that round them float,
Led forth, great God, of Thee.
They strew Thy road as golden sand;
How far, to think we fear,
For all within Thy presence stand,
And we, as they, are near.
How far, to think we fear,
For all within Thy presence stand,
And we, as they, are near.
116
Thou didst not tell to men of old
How great Thy goings were;
Hiding Thy power, Thou did'st unfold,
Father revered, Thy care.
How great Thy goings were;
Hiding Thy power, Thou did'st unfold,
Father revered, Thy care.
Only to us, Thy wonders wrought
(Like some of those far rays)
Have reach'd, at last, man's watchful thought,
To light these latter days.
(Like some of those far rays)
Have reach'd, at last, man's watchful thought,
To light these latter days.
What Thou dost tell in stars above,
What give we are not shown;
Thou givest all to us—for love
Is all, and love made known.
What give we are not shown;
Thou givest all to us—for love
Is all, and love made known.
So many worlds, Thou central Sun,
And all Thy brightness here?
It may be not, for only one,
Thy love has cost Thee dear.
And all Thy brightness here?
It may be not, for only one,
Thy love has cost Thee dear.
Perhaps full many a starry gem
Lapsed from Thy grace did lie;
Perhaps, made manifest in them,
Thy Love went forth to die.
Lapsed from Thy grace did lie;
Perhaps, made manifest in them,
Thy Love went forth to die.
We dwell as at creation's brink,
Yet saved, and safe from thrall;
We think, if we may dare to think,
Thou givest all to all.
Yet saved, and safe from thrall;
We think, if we may dare to think,
Thou givest all to all.
| One Hundred Holy Songs, Carols, and Sacred Ballads | |