There’s nothing bright, above, below,

From flowers that bloom to stars that glow,

But in its light my soul can see

Some features of the Deity.

2 There’s nothing dark below, above,

But in its gloom I trace thy love,

And meekly wait the moment when

Thy touch shall make all bright again.

3 The light, the dark, where’er I look,

Shall be one pure and shining book,

Where I may read, in words of flame,

The glories of thy wondrous name.