1 A firemist and a planet,
a crystal and a cell,
a starfish and a saurian,
and caves where ancients dwelt;
the sense of law and beauty,
a face turned from the sod —
some call it evolution,
and others call it God.

2 Haze on the far horizon,
the infinite tender sky,
the ripe, rich tints of cornfields,
and wild geese sailing high;
and over high and lowland,
the charm of goldenrod —
some people call it autumn,
and others call it God.

3 Like tides on crescent sea-beach,
when moon’s so new and thin,
into our hearts high yearnings
come welling, surging in,
come from the mystic ocean
whose rim no foot has trod —
some people call it longing,
and others call it God.

4 A sentry lone and frozen,
a mother starved for her brood,
and Socrates’ dread hemlock,
and Jesus on the rood;
and millions, who, though nameless,
the straight, hard pathway trod —
some call it consecration,
and others call it God.