the living god. the god that made the world

made it, and stood aside to watch and wait,

arranging a predestined plan

to save the erring soul of man—

undying destiny—unswerving fate.

i see his hand in the path of life,

his law to doom and save,

his love divine in the hopes that shine

beyond the sinner’s grave,

his care that sendeth sun and rain,

his wisdom giving rest,

his price of sin that we may not win

the heaven of the blest.

not near enough! not clear enough!

o god, come nearer still!

i long for thee! be strong for me!

teach me to know thy will!

the living god. the god that makes the world,

makes it—is making it in all its worth;

his spirit speaking sure and slow

in the real universe we know,—

god living in the earth.

i feel his breath in the blowing wind,

his pulse in the swinging sea,

and the sunlit sod is the breast of god

whose strength we feel and see.

his tenderness in the springing grass,

his beauty in the flowers,

his living love in the sun above,—

all here, and near, and ours!

not near enough! not clear enough!

o god, come nearer still!

i long for thee! be strong for me!

teach me to know thy will!

the living god. the god that is the world.

the world? the world is man,—the work of man.

then—dare i follow what i see?—

then—by thy glory—it must be

that we are in thy plan?

that strength divine in the work we do?

that love in our mothers’ eyes?

that wisdom clear in our thinking here?

that power to help us rise?

god in the daily work we’ve done,

in the daily path we’ve trod?

stand still, my heart, for i am a part—

i too—of the living god!

ah, clear as light! as near! as bright!

o god! my god! my own!

command thou me! i stand for thee!

and i do not stand alone!