Thy beck can them summon to new entity.
How many diverse still combine to form one.
Thou givest the word, they part, each to its zone.
Each moment, from naught fresh creations still come,
In flocks and in crowds. ’Tis Thou makest them a home.
Each night, in profound sleep our consciousness sinks;
Becomes non-existent;—waves on seashore’s brinks.350
When morning afresh dawns, they wake up anew,
Like fish in the sea, plashing drops, falling dew.
In autumn, the leaves see. They quit, then, the trees;