THE blue, deep, glorious heavens! -- I lift mine eye, And bless Thee, O my God! that I have met And owned thine image in the majesty Of their calm temple still! -- that, never yet, There hath thy face been shrouded from my sight By noontide blaze, or sweeping storm of night: I bless Thee, O my God! That now still clearer, from their pure ex-pause, I see the mercy of thine aspect shine, Touching death's features with a lovely glance Of light, serenely, solemnly Divine, And lending to each holy star a ray As of kind eyes, that woo my soul away: I bless Thee, O my God! That I have heard thy voice nor been afraid, In the earth's garden -- 'midst the mountains old, And the low thrillings of the forest-shade, And the wild sound of waters uncontrolled -- And upon many a desert plain and shore -- No solitude -- for there I felt @3Thee@1 more: I bless Thee, O my God! And if thy spirit on thy child hath shed The gift, the vision of the unsealed eye, To pierce the mist o'er life's deep meanings spread, To reach the hidden fountain-urns that lie Far in man's heart -- if I have kept it free And pure, a consecration unto Thee: I bless Thee, O my God! If my soul's utterance hath by Thee beer, fraught With an awakening power -- if Thou hast made, Like the winged seed, the breathings of my thought, And by the swift winds bid them be conveyed To lands of other lays, and there become Native as early melodies of home: I bless Thee, O my God! Not for the brightness of a mortal wreath, Not for a place 'midst kingly minstrels dead, But that, perchance, a faint gale of thy breath, A still small whisper, in my song hath led One struggling spirit upwards to thy throne, Or but one hope, one prayer, -- for this alone I bless Thee, O my God That I have loved -- that I have known the love Which troubles in the soul the tearful springs, Yet, with a colouring halo from above, Tinges and glorifies all earthly things, Whate'er its anguish or its woe may be, Still weaving links for intercourse with Thee: I bless Thee, O my God! That by the passion of its deep distress, And by the o'erflowing of its mighty prayer, And by the yearning of its tenderness, Too full for words upon their stream to bear, I have been drawn still closer to thy shrine, Well-spring of love, the unfathomed, the Divine, I bless Thee, O my God! That hope hath ne'er my heart or song forsaken, High hope, which even from mystery, doubt, or dread, Calmly, rejoicingly, the things hath taken Whereby its torchlight for the race was fed: That passing storms have only fanned the fire Which pierced them still with its triumphal spire, I bless Thee, O my God! Now art Thou calling me in every gale, Each sound and token of the dying day; Thou leav'st me not -- though early life grows pale, I am not darkly sinking to decay; But, hour by hour, my soul's dissolving shroud Melts off to radiance, as a silvery cloud. I bless Thee, O my God! And if this earth, with all its choral streams, And crowning woods, and soft or solemn skies, And mountain sanctuaries for poet's dreams, Be lovely still in my departing eyes -- 'Tis not that fondly I would linger here, But that thy foot-prints on its dust appear: I bless Thee, O my God! And that the tender shadowing I behold, The tracery veining every leaf and flower, Of glories cast in more consummate mould, No longer vassals to the changeful hour; That life's last roses to my thoughts can bring Rich visions of imperishable spring: I bless Thee, O my God! Yes! the young, vernal voices in the skies Woo me not back, but, wandering past mine ear, Seem heralds of th' eternal melodies, The spirit-music, imperturbed and clear -- The full of soul, yet passionate no more: Let @3me@1, too, joining those pure strains, adore! I bless Thee, O my God! Now aid, sustain me still. To Thee I come -- Make Thou my dwelling where thy children are: And for the hope of that immortal home, And for thy Son, the bright and morning star, The sufferer and the victor-king of death, I bless Thee with my glad song's dying breath! I bless Thee, O my God! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MAGRADY GRAHAM by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SEA POPPIES by HILDA DOOLITTLE ON AN INVITATION TO THE UNITED STATES by THOMAS HARDY SATIRES OF CIRCUMSTANCE: 12. AT THE DRAPER'S by THOMAS HARDY HOLY CHRISTMAS by GEORGE HERBERT THE MODERN MOTHER by ALICE MEYNELL A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG NYMPH GOING TO BED by JONATHAN SWIFT A RHYME by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE WEIGHTS AND MEASURES, BY OUR OWN TOM DALY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |