Thou also
made the Night,
               Maker Omnipotent, and thou the Day,
               Which we in our appointed work employed
               Have finished happy in our mutual help
               And mutual love, the Crown of all our bliss
               Ordained by thee, and this delicious place
               For us too large, where thy abundance wants
               Partakers, and uncropt falls to the ground.
               But thou has promised from us two a Race 
               
               To fill the Earth, who shall with us extol
               Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake,
               And when we seek, as now, thy gift of sleep.

               
            
            
               These are thy glorious works, Parent of  good,
               Almighty, thine this universal Frame,
               Thus wondrous fair; thy self how wondrous then!
               Unspeakable, who first above these Heavens
               To us invisible or dimly seen
               In these thy lowest works, yet these declare
               Thy goodness beyond thought, and Power Divine:
               Speak ye who best can tell, ye Sons of light,
               Angels, for ye behold him, and with songs
               And choral symphonies, Day without Night,
               Circle his Throne rejoicing, ye in Heaven,
               On Earth join all ye Creatures to extol
               Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
               Fairest of Stars, last in the train of Night, 
               
               If better thou belong not to the dawn,
               Sure pledge of day, that crowns the smiling Morn
               With thy bright Circlet, praise him in thy Sphere
               While day arises, that sweet hour of Prime.
               Thou Sun, of this great World both Eye and Soul,
               Acknowledge him thy Greater, sound his praise
               In thy eternal course, both when thou climbst,
               And when high Noon has gained, and when thou falls.
               Moon, that now meets the orient Sun, now fliest
               With the fixed Stars, fixed in their Orb that flies,
               And ye five other wandering Fires that move
               In mystic Dance not without Song, resound
               His praise, who out of Darkness called up Light,
               Air, and ye Elements the eldest birth
               Of Natures Womb, that in quaternion run
               Perpetual Circle, multiform; and mix
               And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change
               Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
               Ye Mists and Exhalations that now rise
               From Hill or steaming Lake, dusky or grey,
               Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with Gold,
               In honour to the Worlds great Author rise;
               Whether to deck with Clouds the uncolourd sky,
               Or wet the thirsty Earth with falling showers,
               Rising or falling still advance his praise.
               His praise ye Winds, that from four Quarters blow,
               Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines,
               With every Plant, in sign of Worship wave.
               Fountains and ye, that warble, as ye flow,
               Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
               Join voices all ye living Souls, ye Birds,
               That singing up to Heaven gate ascend,
               Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise;
               Ye that in Waters glide, and ye that walk 
               
               The Earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep;
               Witness if I be silent, Morn or Even,
               To Hill, or Valley, Fountain, or fresh shade
               Made vocal by my Song, and taught his praise.
               Hail universal Lord, be bounteous still
               To give us only good; and if the night
               Have gathered aught of evil or concealed,
               Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.