XXIV.

This scheme of worlds, which vast we call, Is only vast compared with man: Compared with God, the One yet All, Its greatness dwindles to a span.

A Lily with its isles of buds Asleep on some unmeasured sea:— O God, the starry multitudes, What are they more than this to Thee?

Yet girt by Nature's petty pale Each tenant holds the place assigned To each in Being's awful scale:— The last of creatures leaves behind

The abyss of nothingness: the first Into the abyss of Godhead peers; Waiting that vision which shall burst In glory on the eternal years.

Tower of our Hope! through thee we climb Finite creation's topmost stair; Through thee from Sion's height sublime Towards God we gaze through purer air.

Infinite distance still divides Created from Creative Power; But all which intercepts and hides Lies dwarfed by that surpassing Tower!