ALIKE Thou art in stillness and in storm; In gentle winds that woo the evening star, And welcome the descending gloom of night With song of forests and the sounding sea. Thou art in flower and shrub; the running brook; The restful silence of the purple hills; And in the lowly meadows where the kine Repose at noon beneath th' o'erhanging boughs Of oak and elm. Afar Thou art and near;— In distant worlds, and in th' trembling dew-drop, That on blushing rose doth hang a jewel Fit for paradise above—too pure for earth. Thou art in ev'ry thought that stirs the soul Of saint or sage; in every noble deed; In woman's love; and in the voices dear Of little children, such as Jesus held In His pure arms, and pillowed on His breast. And this poor world is beautiful because, Though sin and shame have marred its grace, it knows The mighty Love that changes and transforms. |