O'er all the fowl that in the air do fly,
And fish, that in the ocean-depths do glide.
O, God! who dost all praise and glory claim,
In all the earth how excellent thy name!
90. TO MY NATIVE TOWN.
Pittsfield, my native town, how chang'd art thou,
Since first, in childhood's years, thy streets I trod,
And in thy single temple worshipp'd God,