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Lo, these are a part of His ways: but how little a portion is heard of Him ! Great things doeth He, which we cannot comprehend.—JOB xxvi, 14– xxxvii. 5.

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There is a voiceless eloquence on earth,
Telling of Him who gave her wonders birth ;
And long may I remain th' adoring child
Of Nature's majesty, sublime or wild;
Hill, flood, and forest, mountain, rock, and sea,
All take their terrors or their charms from Thee,--
From Thee, whose hidden but supreme control
Moves through the world a universal soul.

But who could trace Thine unrestricted course,
Though Fancy follow'd with immortal force ?

There's not a blossom fondled by the breeze,
There's not a fruit that beautifies the trces,
There's not a particle in sea or air,
But Nature owns Thy plastic influence there!
With fearful gaze still be it mine to see
How all is fill’d and beautified by Thee ;
Upon Thy mirror, earth's majestic view,
To paint Thy presence and to feel it too.


O God! () good beyond compare !
If all Thy meaner works are fair,
If Thy rich bounties gild the span
Of ruin'd earth and sinful man,
How glorious must the mansion be
Where Thy redeem'd shall dwell with Thee !


Is it not bliss, where'er the eye can rove,
To feel the hand of Heaven ?-to find no spot,
No desert region, no sequester'd grove,
Where the Divinity inhabits not ?
To feel, whate'er has been our wayward lot,
That still we hold communion with the Power
Whose word is fate ?—whose goodness ne'er forgot
The meanest insect of the summer hour,
Whose hand directs the sun, and paints the flower ?


The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim :
The unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's power display,
And publishes to every land,
The work of an Almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And, nightly, to the listening earth,
Repeats the story of her birth :
Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though, in solemn silence, all
Move round this dark terrestrial ball ?
What though no real voice nor sound,
Amidst their radient orbs be found ?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice;
For ever singing, as they shine,
“ The hand that made us is divine !"


Since o'er Thy footstool here below

Such beauteous gems are thrown, ( what magnificence must glow,

My God, around Thy throne !
So brilliant here these drops of light,
There the full ocean rolls how bright!

If night's blue curtain of the sky,

With thousand stars inwrought ;-
Hung, like some royal canopy,

With glittering diamonds fraught,
Be, Lord, Thy temple’s outer veil,
What glory round the shrine must dwell !

The dazzling sun, at noontide hour,

Forth from his flaming vase,
Flinging o'er earth his golden shower,

Till vale and mountain blaze;
But shews, O Lord, one beam of Thine :
What then the day where Thou dost shine

Ah! how shall these dim eyes endure

That noon of living rays ?
Or how my spirit so impure,

Upon Thy brightness gaze ?
Anoint, O Lord, anoint my sight,
And robe me for that world of light!


How poor, how rich, how abject, how august,
How complicate, how wonderful is man!
How passing wonder He who made him such !
Who center'd in our make such strange extremes !
From diff'rent natures, marvelously mix’d,
Connection exquisite of distant worlds!
Distinguish'd link in being's endless chain !
Midway from nothing to the Deity!
A beam ethereal, sullied and absorpt!
Though sullied and dishonour'd, still divine !
Dim miniature of greatness absolute !
An heir of glory! a frail child of dust!
Helpless immortal ! insect infinite !
A worm! a god !-I tremble at myself,
And in myself am lost.


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