Sole Maker of the Worlds! They lay
A barren blank, a void, a nought,
Beyond the ken of solar ray
Or reach of archangelic thought.
Thou spak'st; and they were made! Forth sprang
From every region of the abyss,
Whose deeps, fire-clov'n, with anthems rang,
The spheres new-born and numberless.
Thou spak'st:— upon the winds were found
The astonished Eagles. Awed and hushed
Subsiding seas revered their bound;
And the strong forests upward rushed.
Before the Vision angels fell,
As though the face of God they saw;
And all the panting miracle
Found rest within the arms of Law.
Perfect, O God, Thy primal plan —
That scheme frost-bound by Adam's sin:
Create, within the heart of Man,
Worlds meet for Thee; and dwell therein.
From Thy bright realm of Sense and Nature,
Which flowers enwreathe and stars begem,
Shape Thou Thy Church; the crowned Creature;
The Bride; the New Jerusalem!