The six days work, by flaming Seraphim
Transmits to Heaven! as deep to deep
Shouting through one valley rolls;
All worlds, all nature, mood and measure keep
For praise and ceaseless gratulation poured
Into the ear of God—their Lord.
Wordsworth.
Is there any smile of prophecy upon the world’s wide face?
Among the striving millions there, say who shall win the race?
’Mid fallen towers, and falling thrones, and glories that decay,