All Beautiful the March of Days

All beau­ti­ful the march of days

As sea­sons come and go;

The Hand that shaped the rose hath wrought

The crys­tal of the snow;

Hath sent the hoa­ry frost of Heav’n

The flow­ing wa­ters sealed

And laid a si­lent love­li­ness

On hill and wood and field.

O’er white ex­pans­es spark­ling pure

The ra­di­ant morns un­fold;

The so­lemn splen­dors of the night

Burn bright­er than the cold;

Life mounts in ev­ery throb­bing vein

Love deep­ens round the hearth

And clear­er sounds the an­gel hymn

Good will to men on earth.

O Thou from whose un­fa­thomed law

The year in beau­ty flows

Thyself the vi­sion pass­ing by

In crys­tal and in rose

Day un­to day doth ut­ter speech

And night to night pro­claim

In ev­er chang­ing words of light

The won­der of Thy name.