JT-31-THE WONDERS OF CREATION.

THE WONDERS OF CREATION.

I’ll sing aloud creation’s wonders,
And praise my God in every lay,
And speak of lightnings, roaring thunders,
That fill the heart with dread dismay.
O stop ye vain, and look around you,
Behold the blackness of the sky.
The terrors of a God confound you,
As raving whirlwinds pass you by.

All nature quakes at death so nigh her,
And trembles at the steps of God;
Electric matter flashes fire,
And mountains shudder at his nod.
Great hail storms from the clouds descending
Fall rapid on the trembling ground,
Strong trees before the tempest bending.
Groan sadly with the dismal sound.

Now let me trace the starry regions,
When sable clouds are roll’d away:
Astonished see the shining legions,
Irradiate the close of day.
I see the orbs of lucid glory,
Roll swift along the realms of night,
But who can tell their mystic story,
Or trace their far ethereal flight.

Imagination’s highest flying,
Can never bound the ample place,
Where those revolving globes are viewing
In tracts of wide eternal space.
The moon in lunar blaze advances,
And climbs the firmament on high,
While every star in glory dances,
Far round the vast extended sky.

The sun appears in brighter blazes,
And pours his floods of light around,
He rolls along his louder praises,
Nor once forgets the song profound.
His presence cheers the earth with gladness,
And all the nations hail him near;
Before him flies chaotic sadness,
And sable spectres disappear.

I now will view the earth around me,
And see th’extended scene below;
Here wonders rising still astound me,
Where rivers, seas and fountains flow.
There lies the great, expansive ocean,
Old mother of the distant spring,
Raised into high, tremendous motion,
By Neptune’s wide encircling wing.

The rivers’ far sequestered sources,
Unceasing search the distant main,
Thro’ rugged mountains burst their courses,
Nor once attempt to start in vain;
Through fertile vales they often wander,
In lonely deserts push their way;
’Tis on their banks I often ponder,
Upon life’s swift descending day.

For on the lofty mountain’s bower,
I have beheld the distant scene,
The marks of a creative power,
In every object intervene.
The far projected rocks ascending,
Sublimely fills the roving eye,
The ruder steeps around extending,
Seem lost amidst the azure sky.

Far off I see the rural village,
And wide surrounding meadows there.
The fertile valleys smile with tillage,
And waving harvests richly bear;
Methinks I see the rustic smiling,
While ruddy milk maids pass along:
O would they in their daily toiling,
Ascribe to God their constant song.