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Poem by Jean Ingelow
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'In Him we live, and move, and have our being.' The measureless gulfs of air are full of Thee: Thou Art, and therefore hang the stars; they wait, And swim, and shine in God who bade them be, And hold their sundering voids inviolate. A God concern'd (veil'd in pure light) to bless, With sweet revealing of His love, the soul; Toward things piteous, full of piteousness; The Cause, the Life, and the continuing Whole. He is more present to all things He made Than anything unto itself can be; Full-foliaged boughs of Eden could not shade Afford, since God was also 'neath the tree. Thou knowest me altogether; I knew not Thy likeness till Thou mad'st it manifest. There is no world but is Thy heaven; no spot Remote; Creation leans upon Thy breast. Thou art beyond all stars, yet in my heart Wonderful whisperings hold Thy creature dumb; I need no search afar; to me Thou art Father, Redeemer, and Renewer—come.
Jean Ingelow's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org