What awful grandeur rounds thy heavy space:
Thy surge two worlds eternal-warring sweeps,
And God’s throne rests on thy majestic deeps.
Chenedolle.
Mysterious deep, farewell!
I turn from thy companionship, but lo,
Thy voice doth follow me. ’Mid lonely bower,
Or twilight dream, or wakeful couch, I hear
That solemn and reverberated hymn
From thy deep organ, which doth speak God’s praise