A Wordsworthian Composition

Lines Composed a Few Miles below BYU

1
Amid the bedlam of the city;
The street lamps, passing car lights, and buildings strewn about,
Stretches the vastness of God’s creations.
Above the hum of restless murmurs and bustling urgency
Transcendent of our current sphere,
Seemingly ephemeral and far from here
Lies the door to infinity.
Numberless angelic musicians strike the chords of their creation,
Staccato stars above,
The flowing melody of ancient streams,
A swaying flower’s fluttering waltz
All alluring and familiar, like an old refrain
Sing together in a celestial symphony
That carries into the boundless expanse of our Master’s dominion.
Oh sweet bliss! Fleeting memories of simplicity and peace abound,
Yet now I search and search and not a sound;
Will my former joy again be found?
How trivial we seem in the midst of such grandeur,
Yet in comparison
Find wisdom, and strength
Through God’s evident concern.
Through chilling frosts of cold in December
Comes the warming thought of a May since past,
And through this notion lights an ember
Where fear and weakness melt away at last.