i

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 with ah! bright wings.

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Ordained Servant: January 2018

Ecumenism 3

Also in this issue

Barriers to Ecumenicity

Geerhardus Vos: Presbyterian Unrest

(Dis)Engaging Our Reformed Fathers (?): A Review of John Frame’s A History of Western Philosophy and Theology: A Review Article

Reformed Catholicity by Michael Allen and Scott R. Swain

The Vanishing American Adult by Ben Sasse

Kids These Days: A Review Article on iGen by Jean M. Twenge

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