A Hymn Of Confession

The homeless winds that wander o'er the land; The deep-voiced thunder speaking words of fire; The waves that break in sunshine on the strand, Or smite with storm-paled hands their rocky lyre; The stars that blossom in the fields of night; The buds that burst in beauty from the sod; The birds that dip their wings in rainbow light, — Are notes in Nature's symphony to God! But as Creation s anthem onward rolls, From age to age, in grandeur still the same, We set the seal of Silence on our souls, And sing no praises to His holy name. Our eyes are dazzled by the glare of Life; We cannot see the sapphire deeps above; Our ears are deafened by its ceaseless strife; We cannot hear the angels' songs of love. Dust gathers on our mantles hour by hour; We trail our robes in low and sensual things; We yield our heart-wealth to the Tempter's power, And stain the whiteness of the spirit's wings. We fling the priceless pearl of Faith away. And count as treasure Earth's corroding dross; We bow to idols formed of fragile clay, But twine few garlands for the Saviour's cross.