For the past week or so, an old hymn writer has been a good companion on my morning runs. The sun lifts its head earlier each morning and my once dark route is now mostly light. Just before the sunlight begins to cast its shadows across the farm fields and ponds along the way, the birds commence a loud chorus of their favorite songs to fill the still chilly air. It is then that Maltbie Babcock reminds me “This is my Father’s world: the birds their carols raise, the morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.”
The avian choir concludes the morning anthem about the time I douse the lamp on my light vest. Maybe the choristers are off to the coffee hour or have morning chores to which they must attend. The world grows quiet, but still Mr. Babcock speaks to me. By his counsel I am reminded to “rest me in thought of rocks and trees and skies and seas – His hand the wonders wrought.”
The words to the poem that inspired the hymn were published by his widow shortly after Babcock’s untimely and tragic death at age 42 in 1901. They had been written several years earlier, not long after the death of their infant first son. His life marked by sorrow, the hymn is much more than an ode to nature. Its understanding of God and his world grows deeper as the third stanza calls us to ne’er forget “that though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.” Continue reading