XXVIII.

Sole Maker of the Worlds! They lay A barren blank, a void, a nought, Beyond the ken of solar ray Or reach of archangelic thought.

Thou spak'st; and they were made! Forth sprang From every region of the abyss, Whose deeps, fire-clov'n, with anthems rang, The spheres new-born and numberless.

Thou spak'st:—upon the winds were found The astonished Eagles. Awed and hushed Subsiding seas revered their bound; And the strong forests upward rushed.

Before the Vision angels fell, As though the face of God they saw; And all the panting miracle Found rest within the arms of Law.

Perfect, O God, Thy primal plan— That scheme frost-bound by Adam's sin: Create, within the heart of Man, Worlds meet for Thee; and dwell therein.

From Thy bright realm of Sense and Nature, Which flowers enwreathe and stars begem, Shape Thou Thy Church; the crowned Creature; The Bride; the New Jerusalem!