246 CONCLUSION. 
* 
Wherever we turn our eyes, we behold wonders; “if we go up to 
heaven, God is there;” “the firmament showeth forth his handy- 
work ;” if we contemplate the earth on which we are placed, with its 
varied tribes of beings, and the provision made for their comfort and 
subsistence, we realize, that it is indeed God, “who maketh the grass 
to grow on the mountains, and herbs for the use of man.” 
The universe, how vast! exceeding far 
The bounds of human thought; millions of suns, 
With their attendant worlds moving around 
Some common centre, gravitation strange ! 
Beyond the power of finite minds to scan! 
Can He, who in the highest heav’n sublime, 
Enthron’d in glory, guides these mighty orbs— 
Can He behold this little spot of earth, 
Lost midst the grandeur of the heav’nly host: 
Can God bestow one thought on fall’n man? 
Turn, child of ignorance and narrow views, 
Thy wilder’d sight from off these dazzling scenes ; 
Turn to thy earth, and trace the wonders there. 
Who pencils, with variegated hues, 
The lowly flower that decks the rippling stream, 
Or gorgeously attires the lily race ? 
Who with attentive care, each year provides 
A germ to renovate the fading plant 
And gives soft show’rs and vivifying warmth, 
Kindling within the embryo inert 
The little spark of life, unseen by all, 
Save him who gave it, and whose care preserved ? 
Who teaches, when this principle of life, 
Thus animated, swells the germ within, 
And bursts its tomb, rising to light and air— 
Who teaches root and stem to find their place, 
Each one to seek its proper element? 
Who gilds the insect’s wings, and leads it forth 
To feast on sweets and bask in sunny ray? 
None can the life of plant or insect give, 
Save God alone;—He rules and watches all; 
Scorns not the least of all His works; much less 
Man, made in his image, destin’d to exist 
When e’en yon brilliant worlds shall cease to be. 
Then how should man, rejoicing in his God, 
Delight in his perfections, shadow’d forth 
In every little flow’r and blade of grass! 
Each opening bud, and care-perfected seed, 
Is as a page, where we may read of God. 
