The Seen and The Unseen

Nature is but the outward vestibule     Which God has placed before an unseen shrine,     The Visible is but a fair, bright vale     That winds around the great Invisible;     The Finite -- it is nothing but a smile     That flashes from the face of Infinite;     A smile with shadows on it -- and 'tis sad     Men bask beneath the smile, but oft forget     The loving Face that very smile conceals.     The Changeable is but the broidered robe     Enwrapped about the great Unchangeable;     The Audible is but an echo, faint,     Low whispered from the far Inaudible;     This earth is but an humble acolyte     A-kneeling on the lowest altar-step     Of this creation's temple, at the Mass     Of Supernature, just to ring the bell     At Sanctus! Sanctus! Sanctus! while the world     Prepares its heart for consecration's hour.     Nature is but the ever-rustling veil     Which God is wearing, like the Carmelite     Who hides her face behind her virgin veil     To keep it all unseen from mortal eyes,     Yet by her vigils and her holy prayers,     And ceaseless sacrifices night and day,     Shields souls from sin -- and many hearts from harm.     God hides in nature as a thought doth hide     In humbly-sounding words; and as the thought     Beats through the lowly word like pulse of heart     That giveth life and keepeth life alive,     So God, thro' nature, works on ev'ry soul;     For nature is His word so strangely writ     In heav'n, in all the letters of the stars,     Beneath the stars in alphabets of clouds,     And on the seas in syllables of waves,     And in the earth, on all the leaves of flowers,     And on the grasses and the stately trees,     And on the rivers and the mournful rocks     The word is clearly written; blest are they     Who read the word aright -- and understand.     For God is everywhere -- and He doth find     In every atom which His hand hath made     A shrine to hide His presence, and reveal     His name, love, power, to those who kneel     In holy faith upon this bright below     And lift their eyes, thro' all this mystery,     To catch the vision of the great beyond.     Yea! nature is His shadow, and how bright     Must that face be which such a shadow casts?     We walk within it, for "we live and move     And have our being" in His ev'rywhere.     Why is God shy? Why doth He hide Himself?     The tiniest grain of sand on ocean's shore     Entemples Him; the fragrance of the rose     Folds Him around as blessed incense folds     The altars of His Christ: yet some will walk     Along the temple's wondrous vestibule     And look on and admire -- yet enter not     To find within the Presence, and the Light     Which sheds its rays on all that is without.     And nature is His voice; who list may hear     His name low-murmured every -- everywhere.     In songs of birds, in rustle of the flowers,     In swaying of the trees, and on the seas     The blue lips of the wavelets tell the ships     That come and go, His holy, holy name.     The winds, or still or stormy, breathe the same;     And some have ears and yet they will not hear     The soundless voice re-echoed everywhere;     And some have hearts that never are enthrilled     By all the grand Hosannahs nature sings.     List! Sanctus! Sanctus! Sanctus! without pause     Sounds sweetly out of all creation's heart,     That hearts with power to love may echo back     Their Sanctus! Sanctus! Sanctus! to the hymn.