Oh, that I may behold Thy beauty, Lord,
In some small part Thy wisdom comprehend;
The favored earth is but Thy footstool, Lord;
How must Thy grace eternal all transcend!
So much of love and beauty poured forth here,
The heart impelled lifts up, Divinity!
Then bow we low in holy orisons —
What is the measure of infinity?
A star-gemmed, firmament-encircled home,
Bedecked and drawn in splendor by the sun,
The music of the spheres where'er we roam,
0 beauteous world! Thy footstool, perfect One!
