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