Shadows

All things are shadows of thee, Lord; The sun himself is but thy shade; My spirit is the shadow of thy word, A thing that thou hast said. Diamonds are shadows of the sun, They gleam as after him they hark: My soul some arrows of thy light hath won. And feebly fights the dark! All knowledges are broken shades, In gulfs of dark a scattered horde: Together rush the parted glory-grades- Then, lo, thy garment, Lord! My soul, the shadow, still is light Because the shadow falls from thee; I turn, dull candle, to the centre bright, And home flit shadowy. Shine, Lord; shine me thy shadow still; The brighter I, the more thy shade! My motion be thy lovely moveless will! My darkness, light delayed!