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God the Creator.
There is a book, who runs may read,
Which heavenly truth imparts, And all the lore its scholars need,
Pure eyes and Christian hearts.
The works of God, above, below,
Within us and around, Are pages in that book, to show
How God Himself is found.
The glorious sky, embracing all,
Is like the Maker's love, Wherewith encompass'd, great and small
In peace and order move.
The moon above, the Church below,
A wondrous race they run ; But all their radiance, all their glow,
Each borrows of its sun.
The Saviour lends the light and heat
That crowns His holy hill; The saints, like stars, around His seat
Perform their courses still.
The saints above are stars in Heaven ;
What are the saints on earth ? Like trees they stand, whom God has given,
Our Eden's happy birth.
Faith is their fix'd unswerving root,
Hope their unfading flower ; Fair deeds of charity their fruit,
The glory of their bower,