There Seems a Voice in Every Gale

There seems a voice in ev­ery gale

A tongue in ev­ery flow­er

Which tells

O Lord

the won­drous tale

Of Thy al­migh­ty pow­er.

The birds

that rise on qui­ver­ing wing

Proclaim their mak­er’s praise

And all the ming­ling sounds of spring

To Thee an an­them raise.

Shall I be mute

great God

alone

’Midst na­ture’s loud ac­claim?

No—let my heart

with an­swer­ing tone

Breathe forth Thy ho­ly name!

All na­ture’s debt is small to mine;

Nature shall cease to be;

But Thou gave proof of love di­vine:

Immortal life to me!