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god's grandeur - robert ward lyrics

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the world is charged with the grandeur of god
it will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
it gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
crushed. why do men then now not reck his rod?
generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
and all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
and wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod

and for all this, nature is never spent;
there lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
and though the last lights off the black west went
oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
because the holy ghost over the bent
world broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings

- robert ward lyrics

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