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,
Doth 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 which 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 the dark terrestrial ball;
What though nor real voice nor sound
Amid their radiant 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!"

WONDROUS truths, and manifold as wondrous,
God hath written in the stars above;
But not less in the bright flowerets under us
Stands the revelation of his love.

Bright and glorious is that revelation Written all over this great world of ours; Making evident our own creation

In these stars of earth, these golden flowers.

Every where about us are they glowing: Some, like stars, to tell us Spring is born; Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing, Stand like Ruth amid the golden corn.

And with childlike, credulous affection,
We behold their tender buds expand;
Emblems of our own great resurrection,
Emblems of the bright and better land!

THERE'S life abroad;-from each green tree

A busy murmur swells; The bee is up at early dawn

Stirring the cowslip-bells. There's motion in the lightest leaf

That trembles on the stream; The insect scarce an instant rests Light dancing in the beam.

There's life abroad;-the silvery threads
That float about in air,

Where'er their wanton flight they take,

Proclaim that life is there.

And bubbles on the quiet lake,

And yonder music sweet,

And stirrings in the rustling leaves,
The self-same tale repeat.

All speak of life; and louder still
The spirit speaks within,

O'erpowering, with its strong, deep voice,

The world's incessant din:

There's life without; and, better far,

Within there's life and power,

And liberty of heart and mind

To love, believe, adore.

GREATEST of beings, Source of life,
Sovereign of air, and earth, and sea!
All nature feels thy power, and all
A silent homage pay to thee.

But man was form'd to rise to heaven, And, bless'd with reason's clearer light, He views his Maker through his works, And glows with rapture at the sight.

Nor can the thousand songs that rise,
Whether from air, or earth, or sea,

So well repeat Jehovah's praise,
Or raise such sacred harmony.

Greatest of beings, Source of life,
Sovereign of air, and earth, and sea!
All nature feels thy power, but man
A grateful tribute pays to thee.

NOT in the solitude

Alone may man commune with heaven; or see Only in savage wood

And sunny vale the present Deity;

Or only hear his voice

Where the winds whisper and the waves rejoice.

Even here do I behold

Thy steps, Almighty!-here amidst the crowd Through the great city roll'd,

With everlasting murmur, deep and loud, Choking the ways that wind

'Mongst the proud piles, the work of human kind.

Thy golden sunshine comes

From the round heaven, and on their dwelling lies,

And lights their inner homes;

For them thou fillest the air, the unbounded skies,

And givest them the stores

Of ocean, and the harvest of its shores.

Thy spirit is around,

Quickening the restless mass that sweeps

along;