Could we with ink the ocean fill, Were the whole world of parchment made, Were every single stick a quill, Were every man a scribe by trade; To write the love of God alone Would drain the ocean dry; Nor could the scroll contain the whole Though stretched from sky to sky. THE KINGDOM OF GOD I say to thee--do thou repeat To the first man thou mayest meet In lane, highway, or open street-- That he, and we, and all men move Under a canopy of love As broad as the blue sky above; That doubt and trouble, fear and pain And anguish, all are shadows vain; That death itself shall not remain; That weary deserts we may tread, A dreary labyrinth may thread, Through dark ways under ground be led, Yet, if we will our Guide obey, The dreariest path, the darkest way, Shall issue out in heavenly day, And we, on divers shores now cast, Shall meet, our perilous voyage past, All in our Father's house at last. And, ere thou leave him, say thou this Yet one word more: They only miss The winning of that final bliss Who will not count it true that love, Blessing, not cursing, rules above, And that in it we live and move. And one thing further make him know: That to believe these things are so, This firm faith never to forego, Despite of all that seems at strife With blessing, all with curses rife, That _this_ is blessing, _this_ is life. --Richard Chenevix Trench. GOD'S ALL-EMBRACING LOVE Thou grace divine, encircling all, A soundless, shoreless sea Wherein at last our souls shall fall; O love of God most free, When over dizzy steeps we go One soft hand blinds our eyes, The other leads us, safe and slow, O love of God, most wise! And though we turn us from thy face, And wander wide and long, Thou hold'st us still in thine embrace, O love of God most strong! The saddened heart, the restless soul, The toil-worn frame and mind, Alike confess thy sweet control, O love of God most kind! But not alone thy care we claim Our wayward steps to win; We know thee by a dearer name, O love of God, within! And filled and quickened by thy breath Our souls are strong and free To rise o'er sin, and fear, and death, O love of God, to thee! --Eliza Scudder. Ah, how skillful grows the hand That obeyeth Love's command! It is the heart, and not the brain, That to the highest doth attain, And he who followeth Love's behest Far excelleth all the rest. --Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. If I truly love the One All the loves are mine; Alien to my heart is none And life grows divine. GOD'S MERCY