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I do not think I have ever seen anything more beautiful than the bluebell I have been looking at. I know the beauty of our Lord by it.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

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Gerard Manley Hopkins
Age: 45 †
Born: 1844
Born: June 28
Died: 1889
Died: July 8
Poet
Writer
London
England
Hopkins
Anything
Ever
Bluebells
Think
Flower
Thinking
Seen
Beauty
Looking
Lord
Beautiful

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God?is so great that all things give him glory if you mean they should.
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Let Him easter in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresseted east.
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For myself I make no secret, I look forward with eager desire to seeing the matchless beauty of Christ's body in the heavenly light.
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Birds buildbut not I build no, but strain, Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes. Mine,O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
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Religion, you know, enters very deep in reality it is the deepest impression I have in speaking to people, that they are or that they are not of my religion.
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Natural heart's ivy, Patience masks Our ruins of wrecked past purpose.
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I am all at once what Christ is, ' since he was what I am, and This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, ' patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, Is immortal diamond.
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What I do is me, for that I came.
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Beauty is a relation, and the apprehension of it a comparison.
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Nothing is so beautiful as spring - when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.
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To lift up the hands in prayer gives God glory, but a man with a dungfork in his hand, a woman with a slop pail, give Him glory, too. God is so great that all things give Him glory if you mean that they should.
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ELECTED Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorlèd ear, Pipe me to pastures still and be The music that I care to hear.
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Searching nature I taste self but at one tankard, that of my own being.
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What is all this juice and all this joy?
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All things therefore are charged with love, are charged with God and if we knew how to touch them give off sparks and take fire, yield drops and flow, ring and tell of him.
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Nothing is so beautiful as spring- When weeds in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush.
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I have desired to go Where springs not fail, To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail And a few lilies blow.
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Life death all does end and each day dies with sleep.
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I thought how sadly beauty of inscape was unknown and buried away from simple people and yet how near at hand it was if they had eyes to see it and it could be called out everywhere again.
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