THE THOUGHT OF GOD

The thought of God, the thought of thee,

Who liest near my heart,

And yet beyond imagined space

Outstretched and present art--

The thought of thee, above, below,

Around me and within,

Is more to me than health and wealth,

Or love of kith and kin.

The thought of God is like the tree

Beneath whose shade I lie

And watch the fleet of snowy clouds

Sail o'er the silent sky.

'Tis like that soft invading light

Which in all darkness shines,

The thread that through life's somber web

In golden pattern twines.

It is a thought which ever makes

Life's sweetest smiles from tears,

It is a daybreak to our hopes,

A sunset to our fears.

Within a thought so great, our souls

Little and modest grow,

And, by its vastness awed, we learn

The art of walking slow.

The wild flower on the grassy mound

Scarce bends its pliant form

When overhead the autumnal wood

Is thundering like a storm.

So is it with our humbled souls,

Down in the thought of God,

Scarce conscious in their sober peace

Of the wild storms abroad.

To think of thee is almost prayer,

And is outspoken praise;

And pain can even passive thoughts

To actual worship raise.

All murmurs lie inside thy will

Which are to thee addressed;

To suffer for thee is our work,

To think of thee, our rest.

--Frederick William Faber.

Let thy sweet presence light my way,

And hallow every cross I bear;

Transmuting duty, conflict, care,

Into love's service day by day.