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ANONYMOUS. 
I see Him, hear Him, every where,— 
In all things,—darkness, light, 
Silence, and sound,—but most of all, 
When slumber’s dusky curtains fall, 
At the dead hour of night. 
I feel Him in the silent dews 
By grateful earth betrayed ; 
I feel Him in the gentle showers, 
The soft south wind, the breath of flowers, 
The sunshine and the shade. 
And yet (ungrateful that I am) 
I’ve turned, in sullen mood, 
From all these things whereof He said,— 
W hen the great whole was finished,— 
That they were u very good.” 
My sadness on the loveliest things 
Fell like ungrateful dew ; 
The darkness that encompassed me, 
The gloom I felt so palbably, 
My own dark spirit threw. 
Yet He was patient,—slow to wrath, 
Though every day provoked 
By selfish pining, discontent, 
Acceptance cold, or negligent, 
And promises revoked. 
