Eternal God!
Maker of
That have lived here since the man's fall:
The Rock of Ages! in whose
They live unseen, when here they fade;
Thou knew'st this paper when it was Mere seed, and after that but grass;
Before 'twas dressed or spun, and
Made linen, who did wear it then:
What were their lives, their thoughts, and deeds,
Whether good corn or fruitless weeds.
Thou knew'st this tree when a green
Covered it, since a cover made,
And where it flourished, grew, and spread,
As if it never should be dead.
Thou knew'st this harmless beast when
Did live and feed by Thy
On each green thing; then slept — well fed — Clothed with this skin which now lies spreadA covering o'er this aged book;
Which makes me wisely weep, and
On my own dust; mere dust it is,
But not so dry and clean as this.
Thou knew'st and saw'st them all, and
Now scattered thus, dost know them so.
O knowing, glorious Spirit!
Thou shalt restore trees, beasts, and men,
When Thou shalt make all new again,
Destroying only death and pain,
Give him amongst Thy works a
Who in them loved and sought Thy face!
