263
AT MID-DAY.
THOU art in every place, Being Supreme!
Best seen and worship'd, in thy court above,
Yet here on earth thy countenance doth beam
With rays of terror, majesty, and love,
And joys unspeakable thy smile do move;
And none may veil him from thy piercing sight,
Escape thine hand, or from thy presence rove;
Or hide in secret cells close wrapt in night,
For unto thee the darkness shineth as the light.
Thou dwellest where the curtain'd whirlwinds hide;
Where the arm'd thunder walks his lofty round;
Thou on the tempest of the night dost ride,
Flames mark thy path, and clouds thy car surround,
And mighty winds are rous'd, and surging billows sound,
While from thine eye the winged lightnings part;
Thou in the highest arch of Heaven art found;
In the dark regions of the earth thou art,
And in the humble mansion of the contrite heart.
With fear I bow me at thine awful seat;
How to thy holy presence dare I press!
