Sight. 
William Habington. 

WHE I survey the bright 
. Celestial sphere, 
So rich with jewels hung, that night 

Doth like an Ethiop bride appear ; 
My soul her wings doth spread, 
And heavenward flies, 

The Almighty’s mysteries to read 
In the large volumes of the skies. 
For the bright firmament 
Shoots forth no flame 
So silent, but is eloquent 
In speaking the Creator’s name. 
No unregarded star 
Contracts its light 
Into so small a character 

Remov’d far from our human sight: 

