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Morning on the greatness of God

Already the Mistral flame spread
its splendor over the earth, & unveils
the works of God. My soul thrills
with joy, & filled with wonder
at the sight, of those bright
glories, ask what must be the
Creator himself!

If mortals would elevate their
thoughts so high, if our weak eye
should stretch to, & contemplate the
burning Sun, it would seem an ocean of
fire flaming from the beginning of time.

These waves of fire hurl & dash
against one another, & find no
bounds; & her Hurricanes of glame engaged
in a combat of ages. Their masses
of boiling like waters, & streams
& torrents of burning rain

But Lord! before thee all this is
but a spark. Wonderful luminary
kindled by Thy hands, to light the
march of the season & to quite
the actions of mortal man.

The plains, the hills, the seas, the
woods are wild delivered up to the
dark night. Filled with Thy wonders
they invite our contemplation – & every being utters – How great is God!
But the day-star shines upon the
surface of the earth. Thy eye pierces
the abyss & knows no limits. From The smile of thy love joy flows over
all creation

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O'er the wide earth your torch of heavenly light
Its splendor spreads & God's proud works unveils:
My Soul, enraptured at the marvellous sight
Unwonted peace & joy & wonder feels
And, with uplifted eyes thoughts of extasy
Exclaims – 'What then How great must their Creator be!'

O! if a mortal's power could stretch so high
If mortal eye could reach that glorious Sun,
And look undazzled in its majesty
Twould seem a fiery ocean burning on
From time's beginning first birth – whose ever-flaming ray
Could ne'er extinguish'd be by time's decay.

And know no bounds, – these hurricanes of flame
As if In an eternal combat mixed to everlasting combat flashing
Roar with a fury that no time can tame
These molten-mountains boil like ocean-waves
And steam burning streams of rain in burning streams the welkin leaves.

But in Thy presence all is but a spark
A little spark – That wondrous Orb was lighted
By Thy own hand – the dreary & the dark
Pathway of man to theirs – of may benighted: To guide the march of seasons on their way
And place us in a a paradise of day.

Identifier: | JB/110/221/001
"JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110.


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[[titles::morning […?] on the greatness of god]]



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sir john bowring


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