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14 The Book of Praise.
The dew of heaven is like Thy grace ;
It steals in silence down ; But, where it lights, the favoured place
By richest fruits is known.
One name, above all glorious names,
With its ten thousand tongues The everlasting sea proclaims,
Echoing angelic songs.
The raging fire, the roaring wind,
Thy boundless power display : But in the gentler breeze we find
Thy Spirit's viewless way.
Two worlds are ours : 'tis only sin
Forbids us to descry, The mystic heaven and earth within,
Plain as the sea and sky.
Thou who hast given me eyes to see
And love this sight so fair, Give me a heart to find out Thee,
And read Thee everywhere.
John Keble. 1827.
On God the race of man depends, Far as the earth's remotest ends, Where the Creator's name is known By nature's feeble light alone.
He bids the noisy tempests cease ; He calms the raging crowd to peace,