’Mong things extern that orb has not a peer;
But mock suns we can make, our nights to cheer.
On heart unless the soul-sun cast a ray,
No thought, no picture can its sheen portray.90
Can mind His glorious essence comprehend?
His presence, then, to image who’ll pretend?
Of poet’s verse when God’s the holy theme,
Its minished head the sun may hide, ’twould seem.
At mention of His name each breast must find,
A duty ’tis His grace to call to mind.