As The Indian.

Lo, the poor Indian, whose untutored mind Sees God in the clouds and hears Him in the wind. —Pope. Within the wind, my untaught ear The voice of Deity can hear, And in the fleeting cloud discern His movements, vast and taciturn; For in the universe I trace The wondrous grandeur of His face. I see him in each blade of grass, Each towering peak and mountain pass; Each forest, river, lake and fen Reveals the God of worlds and men; His works of wisdom prove to me, A wise, creative Deity.