AN ODE
The spacious firmament on
high ,
With all the blue ethereal
sky ,
And spangled heavens ,a
shining frame ,
Their great Original
proclaim .
The unwearied sun from day
to day
Does his Creator’s power
display ,
And publishes to every
land
The work of an almighty
Hand .
Soon as the evening shades
prevail ,
The moon takes up the
wondrous tale ,
And nightly ,to the
listening earth ,
Repeats the story of her
birth ;
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
Amid 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 ! ”