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.