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!—