Now it is Alexander Pope:
All are but parts of one stupendous whole
Whose body Nature is, and God the soul.
Now it is William Cowper:
There lives and works
A soul in all things and that soul is God.
Now it is James Thomson of The Seasons:
These, as they change, Almighty Father! these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of Thee.
Now it is William Wordsworth:
I have felt
A Presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts, a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man
A motion and a spirit which impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things.
Now it is Lord Tennyson: