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,