To You, O Lord, I lift up my soul.
YET, how few believe such doctrine springsFrom a poor root,Which all the winter sleeps here underfoot,And hath no wingsTo raise it to the truth and light of things―But is still trodBy ev'ry wand'ring clod.O Thou, Whose Spirit did at first inflameAnd warm the dead,And by a sacred incubation fedWith life this frame,Which once had neither being, form, nor name,Grant, I may soThy steps track here below,That in these masques and shadows I may seeThy sacred way―And by those hid ascents climb to that dayWhich breaks from Thee,Who art in all things, though invisibly.―Henry Vaughan, The Hidden Flower
Horatia K. F. Gatty, Juliana Horatia Ewing and Her Books, 1885, Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, London, Part III, Henry Vaughan, The Hidden Flower, 80





















































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