Anno Wordsworth wrote a lot of verbose guff, but he caught the wionder of the universe. With you, I am not sure that "God" is a stern old man jealous of his patriarchal status, it is more likely that what we sense is the incredible extent and intricacy of it all, which is beyond the comprehension of narrow sectarianism (and cultism, denominationism, one-truthism and all)
"The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair; 15
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth."
"Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day."
