But Thou to these art as the noon to night. Thy light, Thy love, in their bright plenitude Yes! as a drop of water in the sea, And what am I then?' Heaven's unnumber'd host, Though multiplied by myriads, and arrayed Filled me with an immortal soul, to spring O thoughts ineffable! O visions blest! Though worthless our conceptions all of Thee, Yet shall thy shadowed image fill our breast, And waft its homage to thy Deity, |