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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 .
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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VOL . XVI . H
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/