The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod. And for all this, nature is never spent; There lives the dearest freshness deep down things; And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs- Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and ah! bright wings. -Gerard Manley Hopkins
With remarkable insight and economy of words, 19th century British poet Gerard Manley Hopkins declared in this unforgettable sonnet truths that believers in the God of the Bible from every generation have acknowledged: In the works of His hands God is revealing His glory and grandeur. Sometimes it surprises us, flaming out for an instant only to recede again into what we normally regard as the commonplace. At other times it seems to ooze around us, gathering strength and power, rich and fragrant, filling the place we occupy with an unmistakable sense of the divine presence. So powerful, so undeniable can be the sense of God's self-disclosure, that it is remarkable most people seem to take so little notice of these evidences of divine glory and grandeur. Occupied with the affairs of this world, they trudge through their daily routines of trade and toil, unmindful of the glory shimmering and beckoning around them. They take the creation for granted, or even abuse it. Having shod their feet with the comforts of material existence, they surfeit themselves with an abundance of things, preferring these for their own sake alone, rather than for any first-hand experience of God revealing Himself in what He has made.
Undeterred, "nature"-a term the validity of which we shall at length consider-continues to pour forth glory and grandeur, deep, dear, fresh and new each day, in a recurring display that is as persistent and utterly regular as day following night. This exhibition of the divine presence is the work of the Holy Spirit, Who broods over the creation, warming and renewing it day by day, nurturing and sustaining it so that it manifests the grandeur of God and shows forth His glory in ways that provoke us to wonder, reverence, and delight.
Hopkins' poem raises some important questions: If God is, indeed, revealing Himself in the things of creation, as even the Scriptures attest (cf. Ps. 19:1-6, etc.), what kinds of expression does that grandeur take? May we perceive and experience it? If so, where, and how will we recognize it when we do? In what forms should we expect to encounter it? By what means? And what can it tell us about God or His plans, purposes, truth, or ways? Why do so many people, including those who claim to know God, seem unable to see God's grandeur in the things He has made? How can we remain so curiously indifferent to it? How is it that the searing, smearing, blearing life of toil and things continues to divert the gaze and enthrall the affections and energies of so many people? Why can Hopkins-and, indeed, why have believers in all generations been able to-see the grandeur of God, to experience His presence and report it so eloquently and convincingly? How does he know this to be a work of the Spirit of God? Is it possible for ordinary folk such as we to see God's grandeur as well, and, if so, what difference might it make? How should we respond to such revelation?
