The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heav'ns a shining frame Their great Original proclaim.

Th' unwearied sun, from day to day, Doth his creator's power display; And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to listening earth Repeats the story of her birth:

While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though is solemn silence all Move round this dark terrestrial ball; What though to real voice nor sound Amidst their radiant orbs be found:

In reason's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, For every singing as they shine; The hand that made us is divine!