The tiny dew-drops as they rest
At morning on the flow’ret’s breast
Are children of the mighty sea,
Small gleams of its immensity.
The candle shining in the night
From the great sun derives its light;
Its little beams are truly fire,
And upward to their source aspire.
No less the humblest son of earth
May lay a claim to heavenly birth;
We are not born of senseless clod,
But children of the living God.
But after all is said and done,
The spark of fire is not the sun,
The drop of dew is not the sea,
Nor is the best man deity.
--CHARLES WILLIAM PEARSON, “A Threefold Cord.”
(1102)