Thine Are The Rivers Thine O God The Pow
Thine are the rivers: Thine, O God, the power
That bids them bear their waters to the sea;
No cloud is mirrored there at morning hour,
No wave uplifts its surging anthem free,
Until the great command is heard from Thee.
Thine are the mountains. To the thunders nigh,
Sounding their echo through the length of days,
Unawed they stand, like giants towering high,
In monumental state to speak Thy praise,
Unshaken still, though lightnings are ablaze.
Thine are the forests, circling mile on mile,
Where labyrinthine paths untrodden wind,
Until our souls, all doubts to reconcile,
Turn from these widening realms to Thee, to find
The mighty purpose of Thy mightier mind.
Thine are all worlds, and Thine all realms of space,
Whereon the stars mark out their shining course;
Whate’er the sunlight clasps in its embrace,
Bears the impress of love, whose tender force
Kindles the soul and traces out its source.
Thine are the heav’ns; the wondrous arch of blue
Up which the monarch sun shall proudly climb,
And Thine the clouds of gold and purple hue,
With planets laughing at the march of time,
And shadowing forth Thy mysteries sublime.
Thine are our souls! Our beings blend with Thine,
Upreaching toward Thee through these longings high,
Stamped with Thy seal, and hearing countersign
Of that One Life in us, that grows divine,
By love illumed, as we to Thee draw nigh.