We Trust in the Living God
December 18.
We trust in the living God.
1 TIMOTHY 4, verse 10.
Thy secret judgment's depths profound
Still sings the silent night;
The day, upon his golden round,
Thy pity infinite.
I. WILLIAMS. Translated from Latin.
Now that I have no longer any sense for the transitory
and perishable, the universe appears before my eyes
under a transformed aspect. The dead, heavy mass
which did but stop up space has vanished, and in its
place there flows onward, with the rushing music of
mighty waves, an eternal stream of life, and power,
and action, which issues from the original source of all life,
from Thy life, O Infinite One! for all life is Thy life, and
only the religious eye penetrates to
the realm of true Beauty.
J. G. FICHTE.
What is Nature? Art thou not the "Living Garment" of God?
O Heavens, is it, in very deed, He then that ever speaks
through thee; that lives and loves in thee, that lives
and loves in me? Sweeter than dayspring to the
shipwrecked in Nova Zembla; ah! like the mother's voice
to her little child that strays bewildered, weeping, in
unknown tumults; like soft streamings of celestial music
to my too exasperated heart, came that Evangel.
The Universe is not dead and demoniacal, a charnel-house
with spectres; but godlike, and my Father's.
Thomas CARLYLE.
We trust in the living God.
1 TIMOTHY 4, verse 10.
Thy secret judgment's depths profound
Still sings the silent night;
The day, upon his golden round,
Thy pity infinite.
I. WILLIAMS. Translated from Latin.
Now that I have no longer any sense for the transitory
and perishable, the universe appears before my eyes
under a transformed aspect. The dead, heavy mass
which did but stop up space has vanished, and in its
place there flows onward, with the rushing music of
mighty waves, an eternal stream of life, and power,
and action, which issues from the original source of all life,
from Thy life, O Infinite One! for all life is Thy life, and
only the religious eye penetrates to
the realm of true Beauty.
J. G. FICHTE.
What is Nature? Art thou not the "Living Garment" of God?
O Heavens, is it, in very deed, He then that ever speaks
through thee; that lives and loves in thee, that lives
and loves in me? Sweeter than dayspring to the
shipwrecked in Nova Zembla; ah! like the mother's voice
to her little child that strays bewildered, weeping, in
unknown tumults; like soft streamings of celestial music
to my too exasperated heart, came that Evangel.
The Universe is not dead and demoniacal, a charnel-house
with spectres; but godlike, and my Father's.
Thomas CARLYLE.
