Shadows

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Shadows

All things are shadows of thee, Lord;

The sun himself is but thy shade;

My spirit is the shadow of thy word,

A thing that thou hast said.

Diamonds are shadows of the sun,

They gleam as after him they hark:

My soul some arrows of thy light hath won.

And feebly fights the dark!

All knowledges are broken shades,

In gulfs of dark a scattered horde:

Together rush the parted glory-grades⁠—

Then, lo, thy garment, Lord!

My soul, the shadow, still is light

Because the shadow falls from thee;

I turn, dull candle, to the centre bright,

And home flit shadowy.

Shine, Lord; shine me thy shadow still;

The brighter I, the more thy shade!

My motion be thy lovely moveless will!

My darkness, light delayed!