Classic Poem

Hark, mortal! stand but still and view
The wondrous works of God;
Then wilt thou ne'er, with any shew,
His providence explode.

His understanding's infinite,
Intuitive and clear;
His sight most perfect and complete,
Most intimate and near.

To him there's nothing far away,
But every thing is nigh;
Nothing to come, but present ay,
Nor hid, but in his eye.

What then dost thou, O man, purblind,
Of his politics know?
What little way can thy dark mind
In his mechanics go?

Hast thou the wisdom to declare
What orders from above
Will come, by which along the air
The clouds are all to move?

Canst thou by all thy natural skill,
Or human science know
The hour, when in the clouds he will
Cause draw his beauteous bow.

Vain man! by what a vain harangue
Canst thou the way declare,
How pois'd the pond'rous vapours hang,
And balance in the air?

So wondrous are the works divine,
In these and all his ways,
Such pow'r and perfect knowledge shine
As human minds amaze.

Whence are thy clothes with warmth impress'd,
Whence comes the scorching heat,
When we beneath our thinnest vest,
And lightest garment sweat?

When chill north winds their blusters share,
And make the rivers freeze,
To melt the ice, and calm the air,
How comes the southern breeze.

In counsel close wast thou at all
With the Almighty join'd,
When he the model of the ball
And firmament design'd!

Hast thou with him spread out the skies,
Clad in its sparkling dress,
As firm, as clear, and to the eye
A molten looking-glass?

A mirror made with skill divine,
Displaying matchless might;
This starry frame, so superfine,
Confounds all feeble sight.

Pray, tell us what to say of God,
We can no knowledge boast;
Our baffled thoughts in darkness plod,
And are in wonder lost.

I stop! for who, but in amaze,
Can stare at endless height!
What creature can undazzled gaze
At uncreated light!

Men vainly, in a measure, lay
Unmeasurable bliss;
They would infinity survey,
But sink in that abyss.