Saturday received its name from Sæter, god of the harvest.
“One poor day!—
Remember whose, and not how short it is!
It is God’s day, it is Columbus’s.
A lavish day! One day, with life and heart,
Is more than time enough to find a world.”
“No man is born into the world whose work
Is not born with him. There is always work,
And tools to work withal, for those who will;
And blesséd are the horny hands of toil!
The busy world shoves angrily aside
The man who stands with arms akimbo set,
Until occasion tells him what to do;
And he who waits to have his task marked out
Shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled.”
ODE.
The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim.
The unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator’s power display;
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly, to the listening earth,
Repeats the story of her birth;
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.
What though, in solemn silence, all
Move round this dark terrestrial ball?
What though no real voice nor sound
Amidst their radiant orbs be found?
In reason’s ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
Forever singing, as they shine,
“The hand that made us is divine!”
