Sparkles with thousand dimples bright.
The distant hills, in sombre masses,
Sleep calmly on amidst the haze;
A mighty cloud through heaven passes,
And from the earth arrests our gaze.
For in the shadows of that cloud,
We seem to see extending far
Valleys and hills, where seraphs bow’d,
Praising their great Creator are.
Praising for ever “Him on high.”