To me, though neither voice nor sound,
From earth or air may come,
Deaf to the world that brawls around,
The world to me is dumb.
Yet may the quick and conscious eye
Assist the slow dull ear;
Sight can the signs of thought supply,
And with a look I hear.
The song of birds, the water's fall,
Sweet tones and grating jars,
Hail, tempest, wind, and thunder,--all
Are silent as the stars:--
The stars that on their tranquil way,
In language without speech,
The glory of the Lord display,
And to all nations preach.
Now, though one outward sense be seal'd,
The kind remaining four,
To teach me needful knowledge, yield
Their earnest aid the more.
Yet hath mine heart an inward ear,
Through which its powers rejoice;
Speak, Lord; and let me love to hear
Thy Spirit's still small voice.
So when the Archangel from the ground
Shall summon great and small,
The ear now deaf shall hear that sound,
And answer to the call.
|First Line:||To me, though neither voice nor sound|
|Title:||To me, though neither voice nor sound|