Doubt flies before the truth that's quired
When earth in living green‘ s attired,
As ghosts before the daystar's rising,—
The grass is ever God finger-spired.
When life is low my awe-stirred soul
No vision has of nature's whole;
It would unsheathe a weapon naked
And cut the bands of divine control.
The Nazarene knows no decrease,—
He shed His beams on Rome and Greece!
O radiant is His word: Consider
The springing grass, and have rest and peace!