On A Survey Of The Heavens

DOES there an insidel exist?
Let him look up—he can't resist,
These proofs of Deity—so clear,
He must the architect revere,
Whene'er to heaven he lifts his eyes,
And there surveys the spangled skies;
The glitt'ring stars, the worlds that shine,
And speak their origin divine,
Bid him adore, and prostrate fall,
And own one Lord, supreme o'er all.

One God this mighty fabrick guides,
Th' etherial circles he divides;
And measures out the distant bound,
Of each revolving planet's round;
Prevents the universal jar,
That might from one eccentric star,
Toss'd in the wide extended space,
At once—a thousand worlds displace.

What else supports the rolling spheres;
Nought but Almighty power appears,
The vast unnumber'd orbs to place,
And scatter o'er the boundless space,
Myriads of worlds of purer light,
Our adoration to excite;
And lead the wandering mind of man,
To contemplate the glorious plan.

Not even Newton's godlike mind,
Nor all the sages of mankind,
Could e'er assign another cause,
Though much they talk of nature's laws;
Of gravity's attractive force,
They own the grand, eternal source,
Who, from the depths of chaos' womb,
Prepar'd the vaulted, spacious dome;
He spake—a vast foundation's laid,
And countless globes thereon display'd.

His active power still sustains
Their weight, amidst the heavenly plains;
Infinite goodness yet protects,
All perfect wisdom still directs
Their revolutions;—knows the hour,
When rapid time's resistless pow'r,
In mighty ruin will involve,
And God—this grand machine dissolve.

Then time and death shall both expire,
And in the universal fire,
These elements shall melt away,
To usher in eternal day.

Amazing thought!—Is it decreed;
New earth and heavens, shall these succeed?
More glorious far—still more august!
In his omnific arm we trust.

But how this system 'twill excel,
Nor Angel's voice, or tongue can tell;
Nor human thought so high can soar;
His works survey, and God adore.