But in Thy presence all is but a spark,
A little spark: that wondrous orb was lighted
By Thy own hand, the dreary and the dark
Pathway of man to cheer—of man benighted;
To guide the march of seasons in their way,
And place us in a paradise of day.
Dull Night her sceptre sways o’er plains and hills,
O’er the dark forest and the foaming sea;
Thy wondrous energy all nature fills,
And leads our thoughts, and leads our hopes to Thee.