Summer: Friday Morning: To The Incomprehensible God Poem by John Bowring

First, Mightiest Deity! Eternal Mind!
Revealed-but hidden One!
Thou in a vale of fadeless glory shrin'd,
Yet to all seen and known!
Holy Jehovah! whose immortal essence
I weigh not,-but confess-
And feel Thine influence, Thy celestial presence,
In all my happiness.
All lives, all breathes, all vegetates in Thee;
Thy power all being gives;
The bird upsoars, the fish divides the sea-
Man understands, and lives.
The farther my inquiring thoughts advance,
The farther dost Thou fly-
And nought I see, but mine own ignorance
And Thine immensity.
Thee, whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain,
How should those thoughts embrace?
My feeble reason strives and soars in vain
Thy cloud-wrapt path to trace.
That reason in the infinite recess
Of dazzling light is drown'd,
And, blinded in its night of nothingness,
Bows, humbled to the ground.
For if to man to know Thee it were given,
He would be like to Thee;
Would wrest Thy sceptre, and usurp in heaven
Thy throne of majesty.
But Thou art far beyond my knowledge, Lord!
Filling all space-all time.
The first-the last-ungovern'd and ador'd!
Thou mak'st Thy path sublime-
Thou givest motion to the heavens-Thy hand
Pours out the deep, proud sea;
And the adamantine pillars of the land
Are rear'd and propp'd by Thee.
Thy way is in th' empyreum-and Thy feet
Tread the eternal hills;
Yet Thy glance visits death's profoundest pit,
And night with brightness fills;
And from that car of light where Thou dost ride,
Thine eye, serene and holy,
Mourns over man's intolerable pride,
Laughs at his towering folly.
But Thou art vaster than the unbounded sky,
And the unfathom'd ocean;
Thou art-and wert before eternity-
Before or rest or motion.
How shall I praise Thee?-Seraphs, when they bring
The homage of their lyre,
Veil their bright face beneath their flaming wing,
And tremble and retire.
Eternal Majesty-Immense Abyss!
Light and Infinity!
Canst Thou unveil Thee to a worm like this?
No! 'Tis all dark to me.
Who art Thou? Where? O condescend to speak,
And let Thy servant hear:-
O lend me wings-and I my God will seek
Thro' every rolling sphere.
I'll ask the rapid wind, I'll ask the storm,
I'll ask Orion bright-
'Say, hast thou seen His venerable form,
The shadow of His light?'
I'll meet the comet in his fiery way,
Stay Sirius on his road-
I'll stop the hurrying night, the hastening day,
To tell me-where is God?
I'll ask-forgive my daring, gracious One!
And lead the wanderer home;
O may I catch one light-beam from Thy throne,
Thro' ages yet to come!
For how should earthly dust presume to rise
So daringly, so high?
And how should dim and dying mortal eyes
Bear splendours of the sky?
I cannot bear them;-but I feel and know,
That Thou art every where;
And worms and worlds-the lofty and the low,
All, all Thy power declare;
All, all Thy love proclaim-Thy power and love,
Obvious to every sense;
And heard in all, around, beneath, above,
In varied eloquence.
I see Thee in the flower-I feel Thee still
In every breath of air;
I hear Thee in the music of the rill-
God! Thou art every where.
This is enough all sadness to control,
All doubts and fears to chase;
And to shed over my enraptured soul
The rivers of Thy grace.
To contemplate-enjoy-admire-adore-
And send sweet thoughts tow'rds heaven;
What can an earthly spirit ask for more?
What more to man be given?
Lost in Thy works,-yet full of humble trust,
I close the worthless lay;
Bow down my reverent forehead in the dust,
And in meek silence pray.