This is My Father's World
Remembering the poetry of Maltbie Babcock
Maltbie Davenport Babcock (1858-1901) was a minister who is best remembered today for his enduring poetry. In 1910, a biographer wrote of Babcock that “it was owing to his unselfish devotion to the great work of uplifting mankind that he literally wore himself out and died at the early age of forty-two. Noted for his impartial charity, he reached people in countless ways and exerted everywhere a remarkable personal magnetism. While he published no books he may be said to have 'lived, or sung his thoughts'.”
It was also opined that perhaps “nothing better gauges the tenor and spirit of the man than a sentence found on the fly-leaf of his pocket Bible after his death: 'Committed myself again with Christian brothers to unreserved docility and devotion before my Master'.”
Below, I have included two of my favourite Babcock poems, which I believe speak to the heart of the man, and his beautiful worldview which was wholly informed by his faith.
This Is My Father’s World
When he lived in upstate New York, Babcock would take frequent walks to enjoy the panoramic views of the Niagara Escarpment and Lake Ontario, telling his wife Katherine that he was "going out to see the Father's world". No doubt, this was the topic of his most famous piece, which was published posthumously as a hymn.
This is my Father’s world,
And to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings
The music of the spheres.
This is my Father's world:
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.
This is my Father's world,
The birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white,
Declare their maker's praise.
This is my Father's world,
He shines in all that's fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.
This is my Father's world.
O let me ne'er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!
Be Strong!
Be strong!
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift;
We have hard work to do, and loads to lift;
Shun not the struggle—face it; ’tis God’s gift.
Be strong!
Say not, “The days are evil. Who’s to blame?”
And fold the hands and acquiesce—oh shame!
Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God’s name.
Be strong!
It matters not how deep intrenched the wrong.
How hard the battle goes, the day how long;
Faint not—fight on! To-morrow comes the song.
