The Treasure House of Images

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou seven-rayed rainbow of perfect loveliness; Thou light-rolling chariot of sunbeams; Thou fragrant scent of the passing storm: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou breath of the slumbering valleys; O Thou low-murmuring ripple of the ripe cornfields! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till, as the mingling blushes of day and night, my song weaveth the joys of life into a gold and purple Crown, for the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou zigzagged effulgence of the burning stars; Thou wilderment of indigo light; Thou grey horn of immaculate fire: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou embattled cloud of flashing flame; O Thou capricious serpent-head of scarlet hair! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till my roaring filleth the wooded mountains, and like a giant forceth the wind's head through the struggling trees, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou silken web of emerald bewitchment; Thou berylline mist of marshy meers; Thou flame-spangled fleece of seething gold: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou pearly dew of the setting moon; O Thou dark purple storm-cloud of contending kisses! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till all my laughter, like enchaunted waters, is blown as an iris-web of bubbles from the lips of the deep, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou who broodest on the dark depths of the deep; Thou lap of the wave-glittering sea; Thou bright vesture of the crested floods: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou native splendour of the Waters; O Thou fathomless Abyss of surging joy! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till the mad swords of my music smite the hills, and rend the amethyst limbs of Night from the white embrace of Day, at the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou cloud-hooded bastion of the stormy skies; Thou lightning anvil of anglel swords; Thou gloomy forge of the thunderbolt: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou all-subduing Crown of Splendour; O Thou hero-souled helm of endless victory! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till the mad rivers rush roaring through the woods, and my re-echoing voice danceth like a ram among the hills, for the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou opalescent orb of shattered sunsets; Thou pearly boss on the shield of light; Thou tawny priest at the Mass of lust: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou chalcedony cloudland of light; O Thou poppy-petal floating upon the snowstorm! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till my frenzied words rush through the souls of men, like a blood-red bull through a white herd of terror-stricken kine, at the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou unimperilled flight of joyous laughter; Thou eunuch glaive-armed before joy's veil; Thou dreadful insatiable One: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou lofty gathering-point of Bliss; O Thou bridal-bed of murmuring rapture! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till I tangle the black tresses of the storm, and lash the tempest into a green foam of twining basilisks, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou coruscating star-point of Endlessness; Thou inundating fire of the Void; Thou moonbeam cup of eternal life: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou fire-sandalled warrior of steel; O Thou bloody dew of the field of slaughter and death! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till the music of my throat smiteth the hills as a crescent moon waketh a nightly field of sleeping comets, at the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou jewel-work of snow on the limbs of night; Thou elaboration of oneness; Thou shower of universal suns: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou gorgeous, Thou wildering one; O Thou great lion roaring over a sea of blood! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till the wild thunder of my praise breaketh down, as a satyr doth a babe, the nine and ninety gates of Thy Power, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou ambrosia-yielding rose of the World; Thou vaulted dome of effulgent light; Thou valley of venomous vipers: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou dazzling robe of the soft rain-clouds; O Thou lion-voiced up-rearing of the goaded storm! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till my rapture, like unto a two-edged sword, traceth a sigil of fire and blasteth the banded sorcerers, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou Crown of unutterable loveliness; Thou feather of hyalescent flame; Thou all-beholding eye of brightness: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou resplendent everlasting one: O Thou vast abysmal ocean of foaming flames! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till the stars leap like white coursers from the night, and the heavens resound as an army of steel-clad warriors, at the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou star-blaze of undying expectation; Thou ibis-throated voice of silence; Thou blinding night of understanding: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou white finger of Chaotic law; O Thou creative cockatrice twined amongst the waters! I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till my cries stir the night as the burnished gold of a lance thrust into a poisonous dragon of adamant, for the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.

Ah! but I rejoice in Thee, O Thou my God; Thou self-luminous refulgent Brilliance; Thou eye of light that hath no eyelid; Thou turquoise-studded sceptre of deed: Yea, I rejoice in Thee, Thou white furnace womb of Energy; O Thou spark-whirling forge of the substance of the worlds; I rejoice, yea, I shout with gladness! till I mount as a white beam unto the crown, and as a breath of night melt into the golden lips of Thy dawn, in the Glory and Splendour of Thy Name.