THOUGHTS ON THE WORKS OF PROVIDENCE.
Arise, my soul; on wings enraptured, rise,
To praise the Monarch of the earth and skies,
Whose goodness and beneficence appear,
As round its centre moves the rolling year;
Or when the morning glows with rosy charms,
Or the sun slumbers in the ocean's arms:
Of light divine be a rich portion lent,
To guide my soul and favor my intent.
Celestial Muse, my arduous flight sustain,
And raise my mind to a seraphic strain!
Adored forever be the God unseen,
Which round the sun revolves this vast machine,
Though to his eye its mass a point appears:
Adored the God that whirls surrounding spheres.
Which first ordained that mighty Sol should reign,
The peerless monarch of the etherial train:
Of miles twice forty millions is his height,
And yet his radiance dazzles mortal sight.
So far beneath—from him the extended earth
Vigor derives, and ev'ry flow'ry birth:
Vast through her orb she moves with easy grace,
Around her Phoebus in unbounded space;
True to her course, the impetuous storm derides,
Triumphant o'er the winds and surging tides.
Almighty, in these wondrous works of thine,
What Power, what Wisdom, and what Goodness shine!
And are thy wonders, Lord, by men explored,
And yet creating glory unadored?
