Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/86

58 Waters and stormy blast

Haste when Thou bid'st them haste;

Silent, and hid, and still,

Thou sendest good and ill;

Thy ways are past exploring.

III

In myriad forms, by myriad names,

Men seek to bind and mold Thee;

But Thou dost melt, like wax in flames,

The cords that would enfold Thee.

Who madest life and light,

Bring'st morning after night,

Who all things didst create—

No majesty, nor state,

Nor word, nor world can hold Thee!

IV

Great God, to whom since time began

The world has prayed and striven;

Maker of stars, and earth, and man,

To Thee our praise is given.

Of suns Thou art the Sun,

Eternal, holy One;

Who us can help save Thou?

To Thee alone we bow!

Hear us, O God in heaven!

A THOUGHT

, looking from a window on a land

That lay in silence underneath the sun,—

A land of broad, green meadows, through which poured