Nor says, “It is finished; creation is done”?—
Men are so many, and God is but one!
Foolish and childish the thought that I frame.
Meteors fall in, but the sun is the same.
What are the birds to the air-spaces free?
What are the fish to the surge or the sea,
Grains to the desert sands, motes to the beam?
Time hides its face at Eternity’s call;
Men may be many, but God he is all.