The thought of God is like the tree Beneath whose shade I lie,
And watch the fleet of snowy clouds
Sail o’er the silent sky.
‘Tis like that soft, invading light
Which in all darkness shines,
The thread that through life’s sombre web
In golden pattern twines.
It is a thought which ever makes
Life’s sweetest smiles from tears
It is a daybreak to our hopes
A sunset to our fears.
One while it bids the tears to flow,
Then wipes them from the eyes,
Most often fills our soul with joy,
And always sanctifies.
Within a thought so great, our souls
Little and modest grow,
And, by its vastness awed, we learn
The art of walking slow. —Frederick William Faber
Craig T. Owens 