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He thus continued—lifting up his eyes
To Heaven.—"How beautiful this dome of sky,
And the vast hills, in fluctuation fixed
At thy command, how awful! Shall the Soul,
Human and rational, report of Thee
Even less than these?—Be mute who will, who can,
Yet I will praise thee with empassioned voice:
My lips, that may forget thee in the crowd,
Cannot forget thee here; where Thou hast built,
For thy own glory, in the wilderness!
Me didst thou constitute a Priest of thine,
In such a Temple as we now behold
Reared for thy presence: therefore, am I bound
To worship, here, and everywhere—as One
Not doomed to ignorance, though forced to tread,
From childhood up, the ways of poverty;
From unreflecting ignorance preserved,
And from debasement rescued.—By thy grace
The particle divine remained unquenched;
And, mid the wild weeds of a rugged soil,
Thy bounty caused to flourish deathless flowers,
From Paradise transplanted. Wintry age
Impends; the frost will gather round my heart;
