Thy heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look,
Shall be my pure and shining book,
Where I can read, in words of flame,
The glories of thy wondrous name.
3There's nothing bright, above, below,
From flowers that bloom, to stars that glow,
But in its light my soul can see
Some feature of thy Deity.
There's nothing dark, below, above,
But in its gloom I trace thy love,