Seek not afar for beau­ty: lo, it glows
In dew-wet grass­es all about thy feet;
In birds, in sun­shine, child­ish faces sweet,
In stars and mount­ain sum­mits topped with snows.

Go not abroad for hap­pi­ness: for see,
It is a flow­er bloom­ing at thy door.
Bring love and jus­tice home, and then no more
Thou’lt won­der in what dwell­ing joy may be.

Dream not of no­ble ser­vice else­where wrought;
The sim­ple du­ty that awaits thy hand
Is God’s voice ut­ter­ing a di­vine com­mand,
Life’s com­mon deeds build all that saints have thought.

In won­der-work­ings, or some bush aflame,
Men look for God and fan­cy Him con­cealed;
But in earth’s com­mon things He stands re­vealed,
While grass and flow­ers and stars spell out His name.