A Hymn

My Maker! of thy power the trace

In every creature's form and face

       &nbspThe wond'ring soul surveys:

Thy wisdom, infinite above

Seraphic thought, a Father's love

       &nbspAs infinite displays!





From all that meets or eye or ear,

There falls a genial holy fear

Which, like the heavy dew of morn,

Refreshes while it bows the heart forlorn!





Great God! thy works how wondrous fair!

Yet sinful man didst thou declare

       &nbspThe whole Earth's voice and mind!

Lord, ev'n as Thou all-present art,

O may we still with heedful heart

       &nbspThy presence know and find!

Then, come what will, of weal or woe,

Joy's bosom-spring shall steady flow;

For though 'tis Heaven Thyself to see,

Where but thy Shadow falls, Grief cannot be!—