Dreams not he is a charm to mortal gaze;
No bird to laud himself hath ever sung—
His song is for the flowers he chirps among.
The sun that fills the skies with summer calms,
The stars that light unmeasured depths of space
Like distant suns that flash reflected charms,
When on the night Jehovah turns his face—
All these in humbleness their glory wear,
Grateful, not proud, because Heaven made them fair.
O vaunting man, go ponder on these things!