1 The spacious Firmament on high,
With all the blue, aethereal Sky,
And spangled Heav’ns, a shining Frame,
Their great Original proclaim.

2 Th’ unwearied Sun, from Day to Day,
Does his Creator’s Pow'r display,
And publishes to ev'ry Land
The Work of an Almighty Hand.

3 Soon as the Evening Shades prevail,
The Moon takes up the wondrous Tale;
And, nightly to the list'ning Earth,
Repeats the Story of her Birth:

4 Whilst all the Stars that round her burn
And all the Planets in their Turn
Confirm the Tidings as they roll,
And spread the Truth from Pole to Pole.

5 What! tho' in solemn Silence, All
Move round the dark terrestrial Ball;
What! tho' nor real Voice nor Sound
Amidst their radiant Orbs be found;

6 In Reasons Ear they all rejoice
And utter forth a glorious Voice;
For ever singing, as they shine,
"The Hand that made us is Divine."