From the very heart of the prosperous world the prophet-thunder grows;
And as this sphere whirls round and round upon its endless way,
And as the laws of the universe from their boundless centres sway,
From the everlasting hills of heaven look down a seraph-race,
And gaze upon the mighty change that speaks aloud through space:
With joy they hymn the Eternal, in whose embrace they live,
And strike the harp to him who loves to pity and forgive.
Stands the archangel Lucifer on a stormy planet near,
And the hollow sound of his mighty voice fills many worlds with fear;
“Vain earth,” he said, “thy pigmy lords may strive from thee to rise,