A fire-mist and a planet, a crystal and a cell,
A jelly-fish and a saurian, and caves where the cave-men dwell;
Then a sense of law and beauty and a face turned from the clod, —
Some call it Evolution,and others call it God.
A haze on the far horizon, the infinite, tender sky,
The ripe, rich tint of the cornfields, and the wild geese sailing high;
And all over upland and lowland the charm of the golden-rod, —
Some of us call it Autumn, and others call it God.
Like tides on a crescent sea-beach, when the moon is new and thin,
Into our hearts high yearnings come welling and surging in:
Come from the mystic ocean, whose rim no foot has trod, —
Some of us call it Longing, and others call it God.
A picket frozen on duty, a mother starved for her brood,
Socrates drinking the hemlock, and Jesus on the rood;
And millions who, humble and nameless, the straight, hard pathway plod, —
Some call it Consecration, and others call it God.
Each in his own Tongue —
William Herbert Carruth
What do you call God?