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POETRYM
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.
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MATIN AND VESPER HYMNS , Sunday Morning , God of the morning ! Thou , the Sabbath's God ! Round whose bright footsteps thousand planets play ; A million beings at Thy mighty nod Are born ; Thy frown turns millions more to clay : How great Thou art I an unimagined deep
Of wisdom and of power ;—Thy laws how sure ! Thy way how full of mystery ! Thou dost keep Thy court among the heavens , sublime and pure And inapproachable ; the tir'd eye breaks Ere it can reach Thee : who can fathom Thee ? Who read Thy counsels ? Thought exhausted seeks
The path in vain ; ' tis o ' er the mighty sea , On the tall mountains , —in the rushing wind Or the mad tempest . In a cloudy car , Wrapt in thick darkness , rides th Eternal Mind O ' er land and ocean , and from star to star .
Hast thou not seen Him in his proud career Nor heard His awful voice ? O look around , For He is always visible , always near ! Listen to his eloquent words in every sound
Of zephyr , waterfall , or birds , or bees , A thousand songs , these sweet and these sublime , All nature ' s intellectual harmonies * And the soft music of the stream of time . See Him in the vernal beauty of the flower , In the ripe glory of the autumnal glow ,
In summer ' s rich and radiant festal hour , In winter ' s fairest , purest robes of snow , There art Thou ! Not in temples built by the hand Of vanity ; by the unproductive toil Of the hot brow ; or by the fierce command Of tyrants , or with shame-collected spoil .
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Thy temple is the universe ; Thy throme Raised on the stars ; Thy light is every where , And every where songs to the Eternal One Are offered up ; nor can the listening ear Mistake that homage which all time , all space Pours forth to Thee : —what sense so
dark and dull That sees not Thy bright smile on nature ' s face ? Who Thy high Spirit , pure and beautiful , Tracks not throughout existence ? All we have And all we hope for is Thy gift , and man
Without Thee is a feeble , fetter ed slave , Driven by the winds of passion without plan . Or purpose , or pursuit becoming . —Thou Art great , and great are all Thy works , and great Shall be Thy praise : before Thy throne we bow ; To Thee our prayers , our vows we consecrate .
O Thou Eternal Being ! clad in light , 1 , in the dust , before Thy presence fall , And ask for wisdom in Thy hallowed sight To lead my steps to Thee . How calmly ail Sleeps in the stillness of the Sabbathmom ,
As if to sanctify the sacred day : The spirit of peace , by the mild zephyrs borne , Glides gently on the tranquil morning ' s ray , And in a solemn pause all nature seems To feel the present Deity- He speaks In the twilight melodies , —smiles in thfe fair beams
Which from His locks the star of morning shakes ; Heaven is His canopy — His footstool earth ; A thousand worlds His throne . O Lord ! to Thee , Noblest and mightiest!—Source of light , of worth , Be praise and glory through eternity ! A .
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( 49 )
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POETRYM
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VOL . XVI . H
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Citation
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Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Jan. 2, 1821, page 49, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2496/page/49/
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