Poem: O God, With Goodness All Thy Own

Former president of the U.S. John Quincy Adams (1767-1848) was a noted poet as well as leader; here he praises God for his bountiful Creation.


O God, With Goodness All Thy Own


FOR thee in Zion waiteth praise,
  O God, O thou that hearest prayer;
To thee the suppliant voice we raise;
  To thee shall all mankind repair.
On thee the ends of earth rely;
  In thee the distant seas confide;
By thee the mountains brave the sky,
  And girded by thy strength abide.

Thou speakest to the tempest peace;
  The roaring wave obeys thy nod;
The tumults of the people cease;
  Earth trembles at the voice of God;
The morning's dawn, the evening's shade,
  Alike thy power with gladness see;
The fields from thee the rains receive,
  And swell with fruitfulness by thee.

Thy river, gracious God, o'erflows;
  Its streams for human wants provide;
At thy command the harvest grows,
  By thy refreshing showers supplied;
Thy bounty clothes the plains with grass;
  Thy path drops fairness as it goes;
And wheresoe'er thy footsteps pass,
  The desert blossoms like a rose.

Thy goodness crowns the circling year;
  The wilderness repeats thy voice;
The mountains clad with flocks appear;
  The hills on every side rejoice;
And harvest from the valleys spring;
  The reaper's sickle they employ;
And, hark! How hill and valley ring
  With universal shouts of joy!

Poem: Thou art, O God

This is a beautifully-written poem honoring God and his creation, by Thomas Moore.



Thou art, O God


Thou art, O God, the life and light
Of all this wondrous world we see;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,
Are but reflections caught from Thee.
Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine!

When Day, with farewell beam delays
Among the op'ning clouds of Even,
And we can almost think we gaze
Through golden vistas into Heaven--
Those hues that make the Sun's decline
So soft, so radiant, Lord! are Thine.

When Night, with wings of starry gloom,
O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume
Is sparkling with unnumber'd eyes--
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord! are Thine.

When youthful Spring around us breathes,
Thy Spirit warms her fragrant sigh;
And every flower the Summer wreathes
Is borne beneath that kindling eye.
Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine,
And all things bright and fair are Thine!

Poem: When up to nightly skies we gaze

John Sterling, author of this poem, relates that those close to the Lord are also close to nature.



When up to nightly skies we gaze,
Where stars pursue their endless ways,
We think we see from earth's low clod
The wide and shining home of God.

But could we rise to moon or sun,
Or path where planets duly run,
Still heaven should spread above us far,
And earth remote would seem a star.

This earth with all its dust and tears
Is His no less than yonder spheres;
And raindrops weak, and grains of sand,
Are stamped by His immediate hand.

The rock, the wave, the little flower,--
All fed by streams of living power
That spring from one almighty will,--
Whate'er His thought conceives fulfil.

We view those halls of painted air,
And own Thy presence makes them fair;
But nearer still to Thee, O Lord,
Is he whose thoughts with thine accord.