"Let there be light:" thus spake the Word;

The Word was God; "and there was light:"

Still the creative voice is heard;

A day is born from every night.

And every night shall turn to day,

While months, and years, and ages roll;

But we have seen a brighter ray

Dawn on the chaos of the soul.

Nor we alone; its wakening smiles

Have broke the gloom of pagan sleep;

The Word hath reach'd the utmost isles,

God's Spirit moves upon the deep.

Already from the dust of death,

Man in his Maker's image stands;

Once more inhales immortal breath,

And stretches forth to heaven his hands.

From day to day, before our eyes,

Glows and extends the work begun;

When shall the now creation rise

On every land beneath the sun?

When, in the Sabbath of His love,

Shall God amidst his labours rest;

And, bending from His throne above,

Again pronounce His creatures bless'd?