He who has gazed upon the starry sky Nights without number, and has learned to trace The path of planets, and the majesty And mystery of numbers numberless, Knows his own nothingness—as dust so small— And learns at length that He is all in all. He works His will in all the heavenly host, And none can stay His hand, nor question bring, Nor say, What doest Thou? The furthermost Of heavens white wonders known to angels wing, Flash but His glory, and adoring fall Before His feet, for He is all in all. Beside Him is none else: and who shall stand In His pure sight, who charged His saints with folly, His stars with tainted purity? His hand Sustains thee at this hour: His Spirit holy, Like the white sunshine, is earths coronal Inscribed with Love, for He is all in all. All worship Him: a myriad golden bells, And white, and red, and pied and divers-hued In every meadow: milk-white asphodels And jasmines—starry dreams with Love endued: All worship Him in one glad festival Of joy and praise, for He is all in all. He is thy Life. There is no other Living Apart from Him. in land or sea or sky: Give Him thy heart, and thou shalt gain in giving Life from His Life—a mighty mystery— Clear from the skies then hear the clarion call, There is none else, for He is all in all. THERE IS NONE ELSE BY BEN HAWORTH-BOOTH. From the April 1902 issue of The Christian Science Journal
Posted on: Mon, 21 Oct 2013 13:56:06 +0000
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