JOSEPH ADDISON
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 the dark terrestrial ball; What though nor real voice nor sound Amidst 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.'
��ISAAC WATTS The Day of Judgement
WHEN the fierce North-wind with his airy forces Rears up the Baltic to a foaming fury, And the red lightning with a storm of hail comes Rushing amain down,
How the poor sailors stand amazed and tremble, While the hoarse thunder, like a bloody trumpet, Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters
Quick to devour them.
Such shall the noise be, and the wild disorder (If things eternal may be like these earthly), Such the dire terror when the great Archangel
Shakes the creation;
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