Hymn To The Deity Poem by John Bowring

'There is no sound or language where their voice is not heard.'

The heavenly spheres to Thee, O God! attune their evening hymn;
All-wise, All-holy, Thou art praised in song of seraphim;
Unnumbered systems, suns, and worlds unite to worship Thee,
While thy majestic greatness fills space-time-eternity!


Nature-a temple worthy Thee, that beams with light and love,
Whose flowers so sweetly bloom below, whose stars rejoice above;
Whose altars are the mountain cliffs that rise along the shore,
Whose anthems, the sublime accord of storm and ocean roar:


Her song of gratitude is sung by spring's awakening hours,
Her summer offers at Thy shrine its earliest, loveliest flowers;
Her autumn brings its ripen'd fruits, in glorious luxury given;
While winter's silver heights reflect Thy brightness back to heaven!


On all Thou smil'st-and what is man, before thy presence, God?
A breath but yesterday inspired,-to-morrow but a clod:
That clod shall moulder in the vale-till kindled, Lord, by Thee,
Its spirit to Thine arms shall spring-to life,-to liberty.