The Voice of God’s Creation found me
Perplexed midst hope and fear,
For though His sunshine flashed around me,
His storms at times drew near:
And I said—
Oh! that I knew where He abideth!
For doubts beset our lot,
And lo! His glorious face He hideth,
And men perceive it not! The Voice of God’s Protection told me
He loveth all He made;
I seemed to feel His arms enfold me,
And yet was half afraid:
And I said—
Oh! that I knew where I might find Him!
His eye would guide me right:
He leaveth countless tracks behind Him,
Yet passeth out of sight. The Voice of Conscience sounded nearer,
It stirred my inmost breast;
But though its tones were firmer, clearer,
’Twas not the voice of rest:
And I said—
Oh! that I knew if He forgiveth!
My soul is faint within,
Because in grievous fear it liveth
Of wages due to sin. It was the Voice of Revelation
That met my utmost need;
The wondrous message of salvation
Was joy and peace indeed:
And I said—
Oh! how I love the sacred pages
From which such tidings flow,
As monarchs, patriarchs, poets, sages,
Have longed in vain to know! For now is life a lucid story,
And death a rest in Him,
And all is bathed in light and glory
That once was dark or dim:
And I said—
O Thou Who dost my soul deliver,
And all its hopes uplift;
Give me a tongue praise the Giver,
A heart to prize the gift. |
