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Unceasing tread their viewless paths on high,
And seem to bid the vainly searching mind,
Which strives to reach their height, still higher rise,
And view the Wondrous Hand which formed them all.
And seem to bid the vainly searching mind,
Which strives to reach their height, still higher rise,
And view the Wondrous Hand which formed them all.
Ye countless orbs! ye sparkling isles of light!
Perchance the glad abodes of peace and rest,
Where blessed spirits glide o'er crystal paths,
And tune their harps to ceaseless songs of praise;
Or else In sweet repose await the hour
When they, returned to earth, shall join once more
The forms wherein they tabernacled here—
The fleshly forms so dear to mortal eye,
Then purified from earth and all its stains,
Then raised again in heavenly lustre fair,
To meet their coming Lord:—oh, who can gaze
On ye, bright watchers of the silent night,
Nor feel the spark of Heaven's immortal fire
Which sleeps within him, kindle at your beam,
And bear his glowing spirit far away
From earth-born scenes, to roam through fields of space,
And soar from world to world—till, 'wildered, lost
Amid the wondrous works of Nature's God,
He turns again to earth, and feels at once
A worm,—and yet, a never-dying soul.
Perchance the glad abodes of peace and rest,
Where blessed spirits glide o'er crystal paths,
And tune their harps to ceaseless songs of praise;
Or else In sweet repose await the hour
When they, returned to earth, shall join once more
The forms wherein they tabernacled here—
The fleshly forms so dear to mortal eye,
Then purified from earth and all its stains,
Then raised again in heavenly lustre fair,
To meet their coming Lord:—oh, who can gaze
On ye, bright watchers of the silent night,
Nor feel the spark of Heaven's immortal fire
Which sleeps within him, kindle at your beam,
And bear his glowing spirit far away
From earth-born scenes, to roam through fields of space,
And soar from world to world—till, 'wildered, lost
Amid the wondrous works of Nature's God,
He turns again to earth, and feels at once
A worm,—and yet, a never-dying soul.
And when the sated eye descends once more
To rest upon the starlit plains of earth,
Oh, fair the scene which meets that raptured gaze;
So still and calm the slumbering world appears,
No fraught with breathing beauty. All is peace:
No sound of life now breaks the deep repose,
No gentle breeze with whispering murmur stirs
To rest upon the starlit plains of earth,
Oh, fair the scene which meets that raptured gaze;
So still and calm the slumbering world appears,
No fraught with breathing beauty. All is peace:
No sound of life now breaks the deep repose,
No gentle breeze with whispering murmur stirs
