They rend their filmy prison. Day and night
Await his nod to run their measured course.
Heaven's pillars and its everlasting gates
Tremble at his reproof. The cleaving sea
And man's defeated pride confess his power.
Yet the same Hand that garnisheth the skies
Disdaineth not to fashion and sustain
The crooked serpent. But how small a part
Of all its works are understood by us
Dim dwellers in this lowly vestibule,