Psalm CIV, Part III

The Moon to run her destin'd Space Fills her pale Orb with borrow'd Rays, The appointed Sun with just Carrcer Metes out the Day, the Month, the Year, His Lamp withdrawn then ravening stray Wild Beasts, outragious for their Prey; The Lion roars his wants aloud And roaring, seeks his Meat from God.

When the East glows with opening Day Back to their Dens they haste away: Nor sooner are the Shades of Night Fled from the Suns returning Light, Then the strong Husbandman renews His Toil, his daily Task pursues, Till Evening calls again to rest, Both toiling Man and weary Beast.

How various is thy Praise display'd O Lord, in all thy Hands have made! Lost in amazement down we fall; In Wisdom thou hast made them all. How on the Earth thy Riches shower Incessant, unexhausted Store; New every Morn thy Gists appear; Great God, thy Goodness fills the Year!

And yet, lo other Scenes disclose! The Sea no less thy Goodness shews, Here the finn'd Race unnumber'd stray, Dive deep, or on the Surface play. Here huge Leviathan may reign Sole Tyrant of the watry Plain. He moves; the boiling Deeps divide: He breathes a Storm and spouts a Tide.