Psalm CIV, Part I

Thee, Lord, my Soul aspires to sing, Almighty, everlasting King, Creator! wondrous to survey Thy Works excite the grateful Lay. From thy bright Throne beyond you Height Spread Plains of Empyrean Light, The Spheres assume the second place, Swift moving thro' th'Eternal Space.

Beneach more close compacted lie The Regions of th' inferior Sky. Here float the Clouds, the Thunders roll, And Tempests whirl from Pole to Pole. Here thy obedient Spirits find The Stores of Vengeance for Mankind: And pleas'd thy Orders of perform Lance the not Bolt, or drive the Storm.

Till thou restrain'd it like a Robe The deep involv'd the shapeless Globe; And now tho' the proud Surges rise, Range the wide wast, and threat the Skies, Fix'd is their Bound, their Tumults end; Yet where thou bidst the Main extend, Awed by thy Voice aloof they roar, Or gently leave th'uninjured shore.

Mean while the piercing Liquid strains Thro' the tall Mountains secret Veins; Thence down the silver Currents flow And wander thro' the Vales below. And while their Streams fresh Moisture yield To the dry Cattle of the Field. Lo, Trees project their Branches fair And lodge the Songsters of the Air.