Sun, Moon and Stars, praise ye the Lord

Regent of all the Worlds above, Thou, Sun, whose Rays adorn our Sphere And with unwearied Swifeness more To form the Circle of the Year:

Praise the Creator of the Skies Who decks thy Orb with borrow'd Rays: Or may the Sun forget to rise When he forgets his Maker's Praiser

Thou reigning Beauty of the Night, Fair Queen of Silence, Silver Moon, Whose paler Fires and Female Light Are softer Rivals of the Noon.

Arise, and to that sovereign Power Waxing and waining Honours pay, Who bad thee rule the dusky Hours And half supply the absent Day.

Ye glittering Stars that gild the skies When Darknefs has her Curtain drawn, That keep the Watch with wakefull Eyes, When Business, Cares and day are gone:

Proclaim the Glories of your Lord, Dispers'd thro' all the heav'nly Street, Whose boundless Trasures can afford So rich a Pavement for his Feet.

Thou Heav'n of Heav'ns supremely bright, Fair Palace of the Court divine, Where with inimitable Light The Godhead condescends to shine:

Praise thou thy great Inhabitant, Who scatters lovely Beams of Grace On every Angel, every Saint, Nor veils the Lustre of his Face.

O God of Glory, God of Love, Thou art the Sun that mak'st our Days: Mid'st all thy wondrous Works above Let Earth and Dust attempt thy Praise!