The fulness of the godhead dwelt in every blade of grass.

Hearken, O children of spirit and contemplation, to the luminous words of Elias Hicks, whose vision of the sacred pervades all creation: “The fulness of the godhead dwelt in every blade of grass.” In these words lies a profound meditation upon the immanence of the divine, the sacredness of the natural world, and the truth that God is not confined to temples, altars, or lofty abstractions, but pulses through the humblest elements of life itself. Hicks invites us to perceive the infinite in the finite, the eternal in the simple, and the holy in the everyday.

The essence of this reflection is that divinity permeates all creation. Every blade of grass, though seemingly insignificant, carries the fullness of God’s presence, energy, and wisdom. Hicks teaches that the sacred is not only in grand acts or visible wonders but in the subtle, ordinary fabric of the world around us. Awareness of this immanence transforms perception: to see grass, trees, rivers, or stones is to witness the living embodiment of the divine.

Consider the life of St. Francis of Assisi, who walked among the meadows, forests, and animals with reverence. He recognized the sacred in birds, flowers, and the gentle flow of rivers, treating each with respect and devotion. Like Hicks’ vision, St. Francis saw that the fulness of the godhead was not distant or abstract but intimately present in the natural world. Through mindfulness and humility, he communed with creation, exemplifying the sanctity inherent in all living things.

The teaching also lies in the cultivation of perception and gratitude. To perceive divinity in every blade of grass requires attentiveness, reverence, and the willingness to humble oneself before the natural order. Hicks reminds us that the ordinary, if seen rightly, becomes extraordinary; even the smallest elements of life reflect the boundless richness, wisdom, and love of the divine. True contemplation arises when one recognizes that the sacred resides not only in heaven but also at one’s very feet.

Even in modern life, the lesson endures. The urban dweller who walks through parks, gardens, or along riverbanks can find this sacredness if they open their mind and spirit to the presence of God in creation. Consider Rachel Carson, whose careful observation of plants, animals, and ecosystems revealed the profound interconnectedness and sacred patterns of life. By attuning herself to these elements, she inspired generations to see the divinity inherent in nature, echoing Hicks’ revelation.

Hicks’ reflection also teaches the virtue of respect and stewardship. If the fullness of God dwells in every blade of grass, then every action that harms the earth becomes morally significant. Preservation, care, and mindful interaction with the natural world are not merely acts of conservation—they are acts of reverence, honoring the divine presence woven into all things. The sacredness of the humble reminds us that ethical responsibility begins with recognition of the divine in the commonplace.

O children of reflection, take this teaching to heart: behold the world with eyes attuned to the sacred. Notice the grass, the flowers, the streams, and the stones, and perceive in them the fulness of the godhead. Walk gently, act reverently, and cultivate awareness of the divine that permeates all existence. In doing so, every moment becomes an encounter with eternity, every act an offering to the sacred woven through creation.

Thus, let the words of Elias Hicks illuminate your life: God is not distant, abstract, or confined, but present in every leaf, every petal, every blade of grass. To see with understanding is to live with awe, humility, and gratitude. In this recognition, the world transforms from a collection of objects into a living, sacred tapestry, and the soul attuned to it finds connection, wisdom, and enduring peace.

If you wish, I can also create a practical guide for perceiving the divine in nature, inspired by Hicks’ reflection, with daily exercises to cultivate awareness, reverence, and gratitude for the sacred in the ordinary. Do you want me to do that?