Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.
John Keble 17921866Who Runs May Read
Keble-JoT
Which heavenly truth imparts,
And all the lore its scholars need,
Pure eyes and Christian hearts.
Within us and around,
Are pages in that book, to show
How God himself is found.
Is like the Maker’s love,
Wherewith encompass’d, great and small
In peace and order move.
A wondrous race they run,
But all their radiance, all their glow,
Each borrows of its sun.
That crowns his holy hill;
The saints, like stars, around his seat,
Perform their courses still.
What are the saints on earth?
Like trees they stand whom God has given,
Our Eden’s happy birth.
Hope their unfading flower,
Fair deeds of charity their fruit,
The glory of their bower.
It steals in silence down;
But where it lights, the favor’d place
By richest fruits is known.
With its ten thousand tongues
The everlasting sea proclaims,
Echoing angelic songs.
Thy boundless power display:
But in the gentler breeze we find
Thy spirit’s viewless way.
Forbids us to descry
The mystic heaven and earth within,
Plain as the sea and sky.
And love this sight so fair,
Give me a heart to find out thee,
And read thee everywhere.