A thinking atom—who may dare to hope
Between us two the distance e’er to scan!
I, who in thee my brief existence breathe,
Myself unknown and fashioned at thy will,
What ow’st thou, Lord, to me, were I not born?
Before or after, naught—hail end supreme!
Who drew all from himself, to himself owes all.
Enjoy, great artist, of thy hands the work.
I live thy sov’reign orders to fulfil.
Dispose, ordain, control, in time, in space;