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 with 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