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God’s Grandeur
- The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
- It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
- It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
- Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
- Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
- And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
- And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
- Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
- And for all this, nature is never spent;
- There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
- And though the last lights off the black West went
- Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
- Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
- World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
(See “God’s Grandeur,” line 12)
