There’s nothing bright, above, below,

From flowers that bloom to stars that glow,

But in its light my soul can see

Some feature of the Deity.

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.

The heavens, the earth, 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.