I KNOW WHAT BEAUTY IS.

I know what beauty is, for Thou

Hast set the world within my heart;

Its glory from me will not part;

I never loved it more than now.

I know the Sabbath afternoon:

The light lies sleeping on the graves;

Against the sky the poplar waves;

The river plays a Sabbath tune.

Ah, know I not the spring's snow-bell?

The summer woods at close of even?

Autumn, when earth dies into heaven,

And winter's storms, I know them well.

I know the rapture music brings,

The power that dwells in ordered tones,

A living voice that loves and moans,

And speaks unutterable things.

Consenting beauties in a whole;

The living eye, the imperial head,

The gait of inward music bred,

The woman form, a radiant soul.

And splendours all unspoken bide

Within the ken of spirit's eye;

And many a glory saileth by,

Borne on the Godhead's living tide.

But I leave all, thou man of woe!

Put off my shoes, and come to Thee;

Thou art most beautiful to me;

More wonderful than all I know.

As child forsakes his favourite toy,

His sisters’ sport, his wild bird's nest;

And climbing to his mother's breast,

Enjoys yet more his former joy —

I lose to find. On forehead wide

The jewels tenfold light afford:

So, gathered round thy glory, Lord,

All beauty else is glorified.