The blue, deep, glorious heavens!—I lift mine eye,
And bless thee, O my God! that I have met
And own’d thine image in the majesty
Of their calm temple still!—that, never yet,
There hath thy face been shrouded from my sight
By noontide blaze, or sweeping storm of night:
I bless thee, O my God!
That now still clearer, from their pure expanse,
I see the mercy of thine aspect shine,
Touching death’s features with a lovely glance