The wide spread universe—the azure dome—
The stars which in their golden chariots ride,
Divinity’s design and work proclaim—
But can no further go. It may emit
A sad, a sickening note of wo; yet it,
When questioned of the “Great Restorer’s” name,
Nor voice, nor answer e’er returns. ’Tis here
Thy helplessness, O Nature! lies—
Speakest thou but of Him who built the skies;
“Things seen made not of things which do appear;”