Thou grace divine, encircling all,
A soundless, shoreless sea
Wherein at last our souls shall fall;
O love of God most free,
When over dizzy steeps we go
One soft hand blinds our eyes,
The other leads us, safe and slow,
O love of God, most wise!
And though we turn us from thy face,
And wander wide and long,
Thou hold'st us still in thine embrace,
O love of God most strong!
The saddened heart, the restless soul,
The toil-worn frame and mind,
Alike confess thy sweet control,
O love of God most kind!
But not alone thy care we claim
Our wayward steps to win;
We know thee by a dearer name,
O love of God, within!
And filled and quickened by thy breath
Our souls are strong and free
To rise o'er sin, and fear, and death,
O love of God, to thee!
--Eliza Scudder.
Ah, how skillful grows the hand
That obeyeth Love's command!
It is the heart, and not the brain,
That to the highest doth attain,
And he who followeth Love's behest
Far excelleth all the rest.
--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
If I truly love the One
All the loves are mine;
Alien to my heart is none
And life grows divine.