There’s the sum of all religion
In its mightiness;
Winged truths, beyond your doubting,
Close about you press.
God is greater in the open—
Little man is less.
There’s a voice pervades its stillness,
Wonderful and clear;
Tongues of prophets and of angels,
Whispering far and near,
Speak an everlasting gospel
To the spirit’s ear.
There's a sense you gather, sonny,
In the open air;
Shift your burden ere it break you:
God will take His share.
Keep your end up for your own sake;
All the rest’s His care.
There's a promise, if you need it,
For the time to come;
All the veldt is loud and vocal
Where the Bible’s dumb.
Heaven is paved with gold for parsons,
But it's grassed for some.
There’s a spot I know of, sonny,
Yonder by the stream;
Bushes handy for the fire,
Water for the team.
By the old home outspan, sonny,
Let me lie and dream.
Perceval Gibbon.