I turned to speak to God About the world's despair; But to make bad matters worse, I found God wasn't there

It's God--I'd have known Him by Blake's picture anywhere.

It's God - I'd have known Him by Blake's picture anywhere

God made a beauteous garden
With lovely flowers strown,
But one straight, narrow pathway
That was not overgrown.
And to this beauteous garden
He brought mankind to live,
And said "To you, my children,
These lovely flowers I give.
Prune ye my vines and fig trees,
With care my flowers tend,
But keep the pathway open
Your home is at the end."

God's Garden

Let me not know that all is lost, though lost it be - leave me not tied to this despair, this corpse like bride

Shakespeare was the great one before us. His place was between God and despair.