And long had watched the prayerful Gothic time
When Notre Dame arose, a mystery there
In wicked good old Paris and its grime!
II
Oh light, light, light! Oh Sun your light is good.
You stir the sap of garden, field and wood,
Of men and ages. And your deeds are fair,
And by this light, is God’s love understood.
So let us think upon Creation’s days
And Great Jehovah Moses came to praise:—