Beyond, beyond that boundless sea,
Above the dome of sky,
Farther than thought itself can flee,
Thy dwelling is on high;
Yet dear the awful thought to me,
That Thou, my God, art nigh.

Art nigh, and yet my laboring mind
Feels after Thee in vain,
Thee in these works of power to find,
Or to Thy seat attain;
Thy messenger, the stormy wind;
Thy path, the trackless main;

These speak of Thee with loud acclaim:
They thunder forth Thy praise,
The glorious honor of Thy Name,
The wonders of Thy ways;
But Thou art not in tempest-flame,
Nor in day’s glorious blaze.

We hear Thy voice, when thunders roll
Through the wide fields of air:
The waves obey Thy dread control;
Yet still Thou art not there.
Where shall I find Him, O my soul,
Who yet is everywhere?

O! not in circling depth or height,
But in the conscious breast,
Present to faith, though veiled from sight,
There doth His Spirit rest.
O come, Thou Presence infinite!
And make Thy creature blest.

Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
Forgive our foolish ways;
Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.

In simple trust like theirs who heard,
Beside the Syrian sea,
The gracious calling of the Lord,
Let us, like them, without a word,
Rise up and follow Thee.

O Sabbath rest by Galilee,
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee
The silence of eternity,
Interpreted by love!

With that deep hush subduing all
Our words and works that drown
The tender whisper of Thy call,
As noiseless let Thy blessing fall
As fell Thy manna down.

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.

Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm.