The Book Of Creation

The book of nature open lies,
With much instruction stored;
But till the Lord anoints our eyes
We cannot read a word.

Philosophers have pored in vain,
And guessed, from age to age;
For reason's eye could ne'er attain
To understand a page.

Though to each star they give a name,
Its size and motions teach;
The truths which all the stars proclaim,
Their wisdom cannot reach.

With skill to measure earth and sea;
And weigh the subtle air;
They cannot, Lord, discover thee
Though present everywhere.

The knowledge of the saints excels
The wisdom of the schools;
To them his secrets God reveals,
Though men account them fools.

To them the sun and stars on high,
The flow'rs that paint the field,
And all the artless birds that fly,
Divine instruction yield.

The creatures on their senses press,
As witnesses to prove
Their Saviour's pow'r, and faithfulness,
His providence and love.

Thus may we study nature's book
To make us wise indeed!
And pity those who only look
At what they cannot read.

Poem topics: , , , , ,

Rate this poem:

Add The Book Of Creation poem to your favorites

Add Poet John Newton to your favorites

Popular Poets

Elizabeth Wilcox (1 poems)
Margaret Steele Anderson (2 poems)
Arthur Henry Adams (3 poems)
Mildred McNeal Sweeney (2 poems)
Anthony Munday (1 poems)
Alexander Pope (17 poems)
Sir John Suckling (9 poems)
Alfred Lord Tennyson (168 poems)
Queen Elizabeth I (2 poems)
Samuel Butler (4 poems)

Popular Poems

Consolation, by Edgar Albert Guest
The Great Recall, by Robert William Service
Psalm XXIII, by Christopher Smart
Straw Sandal Half Sunk, by Yosa Buson
The Wife A-Lost, by William Barnes
Limerick: There was a Young Lady of Dorking,, by Edward Lear
Twas Crisisâ??All the length had passed, by Emily Dickinson
He Was Lucky, by Anna Swirszczynska
The Palm-Tree, by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Address To The Flag, by Hanford Lennox Gordon