127. The Unbelieving World

O Lord! when I look o'er the wide-spreading world,
How lovely and yet how unhappy it seems,
How full of realities, pure and divine.
Yet how bent on unworshipful dreams!

My heart swells within me with thankfulest joy
For the faith which to me Thou hast given;
For in all Thine amazing abundance of gifts.
Thou hast no better gift short of heaven.

There was darkness in Egypt while Israel had sun,
And the songs in the corn fields of Gessen were gay,
And the chosen that dwelt mid the heathen moved on,
Each threading the gloom with his own private
day.

Ah! so is it now with the Church of Thy choice;
Her lands lie in light which to worldlings seems
dim;
And each child of that Church, who must live in
dark realms,
Has a sun o'er his head which is only for him.

Yet it grieves me too, Lord! that so many should
wander,
Should see nought before them but desolate night,
That men should be walled in with darkness around
them,
When within and without there is nothing but
light.

But still more I grieve for Thy glory, O Lord!
That the world should be only an Egy|3t for Thee,
That the bondsmen of error should boast of their
chains.
And scoff at the love that would fain set them free.

Ah Lord! they must learn that their light is but
darkness;
They must come to believe that our darkness is
light;
They, who think they see far, must acknowledge
their blindness,
And come to Thy Church to recover their sight.

But we who have light, we must make our light
brighter.
And thus show our love to Thee, Lord! for Thy
gift;
The faith Thoq hast sent us our love can make
greater.
And almost to sight our believing can lift.

Faith is sweetest of worships to Him who so loves
His unbearable splendors in darkness to hide;
And to trust to Thy word, dearest Lord! is true love,
For those prayers are most granted which seem
most denied.

Oh why hast Thou made then faith's field all so
narrow,
Nor multiplied objects for childlike belief;
For faith, though it is such a beautiful worship.
Is but earth's span of heaven, too fleeting and
brief.

Thou hast dealt better measure to hope than to
faith;
Hope can hope for no more, since it hopes. Lord!
for Thee;
Nought is lacking to love which has fastened on
God!
It is love lost in love like a drop in the sea.

But faith throws her arms around all Thou hast told
her.
And, able to hold as much more, can but grieve;
She could hold Thy grand Self, Lord! if Thou
wouldst reveal it,
And love makes her long to have more to believe.