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,
Doth it’s Creator’s powers 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,
While 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 this dark terrestrial ball?
What though no real voice, or sound,
Amidst their radiant orbs be found?
In reason’s ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice-
Forever singing, as they shine:
The Hand that made us is Divine.
(19th Psalm paraphrased by Addison)
