Spring: Wednesday Evening Poem by John Bowring

Almighty Being! wise and holy,
Who hast to each his portion given;
To the poor worm his station lowly,
And to the choirs of angels-heaven;
My faith is in thy righteous keeping,
Ruler of worlds!-unbounded One!
While to weak man, in error sleeping,
Thy awful course is all unknown;
Far from Thy light immortal streaming,
From heaven,-resplendently afar,
Man's ray is but the feeble gleaming
Of evening's palest, farthest star.
With hope upon his path descending,
Life's darkness soon gives way to light;
Some holy sunbeams hither tending,
Chase the dark clouds of doubt, of night.


O, had our journey, wasting, weary,
No ray like these to gild the gloom,
Life were a desert dark and dreary,
A midnight prison-house-a tomb!
Merciful Being! Friend! Creator!
To Thee I look, to Thee I call;
On Thee I rest my fragile nature;
Not on this transient world, nor all
The world's foundations. Thou, who kindly
Smil'st on my path, conduct me still;
Conduct me, while fatigued and blindly
I climb up life's deceitful hill;
Smile in Thy light of mercy o'er me,
And form me to Thy holy will;
Thy hope shall sweetly beam before me,
Thy rays my little lamp shall fill.
Could I control my future being,
No thought of pride should e'er rebel;
Thou, all-designing-guiding-seeing,
Wilt direct all things wisely, well.
Disturb not, dreams of care! to-morrow;
Enough the evil of to-day:
My destined sum of joy and sorrow
The scales of perfect wisdom weigh.
He, for ten thousand worlds providing,
Yet condescends to think of me!
My little skiff securely guiding
O'er Time's now still, now troubled sea,
Calm as the night, and soft and vernal
As the spring's breath, my bark shall move,
Till, launch'd into the gulf eternal,
It anchors in a port above.