Father of ALL! in every age,
In every clime adored,
By saint, by savage and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord.--_Pope._
The Supreme Being whom we call God, is a necessary, self-existent,
eternal, immense, omnipotent, omniscient, and best Being; and
therefore also a Being who is and ought to be esteemed most sacred
of holy.--_N. Grew._
What an immense workman is God! in miniature as well as in the
great. With the one hand, perhaps, He is making a ring of one
hundred thousand miles in diameter, to revolve round a planet like
Saturn, and with the other as forming a tooth in the ray of a
feather of a humming-bird, or a point in the claw of the foot of a
microscopic insect. When he works in miniature, everything is
gilded, polished, and perfect, but whatever is made by human art,
as a needle, etc., when viewed by a microscope, appears rough, and
coarse, and bungling.--_Bishop Law._
Nothing is easier than to say the word--_universe_, and yet it
would take us millions of millions of years to bestow one hasty
glance upon the surface of that small portion of it which lies
within the range of our glasses. But what are all the suns, comets,
earths, moons, atmospheres, seas, rivers, mountains, valleys,
plains, woods, cattle, wild beasts, fish, fowl, grasses, plants,
shrubs, minerals, and metals, compared with the meaning of the one
name--God!--_Pulsford._
The whole evolution of times and ages, from everlasting to
everlasting, is, collectedly an presentifickly represented to God
at once, as if all things and actions were at this very instant
really present and existent before Him.--_Sir T. More._
Who taught the bird to build her nest,
Of wool and hay and moss?
Who taught her how to weave it best,
And lay the twigs across?
Who taught the busy bee to fly
Among the sweetest flowers--
And lay her store of honey by,
To eat in winter hours?
Who taught the little ants the way
Their narrow holes to bore,
And through the pleasant summer's day
To gather up their store?
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There's not a tint that paints the rose,
Or decks the lily fair,
Or marks the humblest flower that grows
But God has placed it there.
There's not of grass a simple blade,
Or leaf of lowliest mien,
Where heav'nly skill is not displayed,
And heav'nly goodness seen.
There's not a star whose twinkling light
Illumes the distant earth,
And cheers the solemn gleam of night,
But mercy gave it birth.
There's not a cloud whose dews distil
Upon the parching clod,
And clothe with verdure vale and hill,
That is not sent by God.
There's not a place on earth's vast round,
In ocean deep, or air,
Where skill and wisdom are not found,
For God is everywhere.
Around, beneath, below, above,
Wherever space extends,
There Heaven displays its boundless love,
And power with mercy blends.--_Wallace._