p. 1 | God of the Open Air by Henry Van Dyke

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Washington, D. C. · Aug 10, 1905

God of the Open Air

By Henry Van Dyke

Thou who hast made Thy dwelling fair With flowers beneath, above with starry lights, And set Thine altars everywhere— On mountain heights,

In woodlands dim with many a dream, In valleys bright with springs, And on the curving capes of every stream;

Thou who hast taken to Thyself the wings of morning, to abide Upon the secret places of the sea, and on far islands, where the tide Visits the beauty of untrodden shores, Waiting for worshipers to come to Thee in Thy great out-of-doors!

To Thee I turn, to Thee I make my prayer, God of the open air! Seeking for Thee, the heart of man lonely and longing ran, In that first solitary hour, when the mysterious power To know and love the wonder of the morn Was breathed within him, and his soul was born:

And Thou didst meet Thy child, Not in some hidden shrine, But in the freedom of the garden wild, And take his hand in Thine—

There all day long in paradise he walked, And in the cool of evening with Thee talked.

Lost long ago that garden bright and pure, Lost that calm day too perfect to endure, And lost, the childlike love that worshiped and was sure!

For men have dulled their eyes with sin, And dimmed the light of heaven with doubt, And built their temple walls to shut Thee in, And framed their iron creeds to shut Thee out.

But not for Thee the closing of the door, O Spirit unconfined! Thy ways are free as is the wandering wind, And Thou hast wooed Thy children, to restore Their fellowship with Thee, In peace of soul and simpleness of mind.

—Henry Van Dyke, D. D., in The Century.