God's Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not wreck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod
And all is seared with trade bleared, smeared with toil
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod
And for all this, nature is never spent
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and bright wings
Bright wings
The world is charged with the grandeur of God
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod
The world is charged with the grandeur of God
(Bright wings)
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod
Bright wings
Bright wings
Bright wings
Bright wings