Their wondrous pattern too you take:
Their old and empty pitchers first they brake, 130
And with their hands then lifted up the light.
Iö! sound too the trumpets here!
Already your victorious lights appear;
New scenes of heaven already we espy,
And crowds of golden worlds on high, 135
Which from the spacious plains of earth and sea
Could never yet discovered be
By sailor’s or Chaldean’s watchful eye.