Thomas Toke Lynch (1818–1871)

CALL not the heaven Vacancy—

Whose colour, soft and deep,

Compels a tear to every eye

That gazing long will keep;

Whose beauty rests so silently,

Like a maiden’s in a sleep.

O Father great! this heaven high

Is of Thy love the token;

As sweet and deep as anciently,

Of stillness yet unbroken;

A love is imaged in the sky,

Too great to be outspoken.

Our earth, the featured Definite,

Has meanings all Divine;

But oneness of the Infinite

Doth in the azure shine;

We seem to see Thee in the height,

Around we look on Thine.

By works for uses and delight

We learn Thee part by part;

Thy world reveals to gradual sight

How manifold Thou art;

But read at once in heaven bright

Is the fulness of Thy heart.

When gazing on the open blue,

Our heart and Thine seem near;

Thy love in ours is imaged true,

As skies in water clear;

Clouds come and pass, but still in view

The depths of heart appear.

We feel—and all our spirit through,

As through the air a bell,

Or odour of a blossom new

Through all a hidden dell,

Spreads joy as deep as heaven’s hue,

Which utterance cannot tell.