Spreads undivided, operates unspent;
Breathes in our souls, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns,
As the rapt seraph that adores and burns.
To him no high, no low, no great, no small,
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
* * * * * * *
All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction which thou canst not see;