Where sense can reach, or fancy rove,
From hill to hill, from field to grove,
Across the waves, around the sky,
There’s not a spot, or deep or high,
Where the Creator has not trod,
And left the footstep of a God.
And in the same strain, with what strength and majesty he sweeps every chord of Nature in his sublime version of the 148th Psalm:
Loud hallelujahs to the Lord.
The strong nervousness of his expression, the passionate personification (always the mark of a great poet) with which his verses abound, sometimes, but more especially in his lyrics, give the appearance of inflation to his expressions. But when attempting to describe adequate themes, they only fitly represent the subject, as in the following fine description of the glory of God in the clouds:
Thy hand, how wide it spreads the sky!