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A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations: Consisting of Choice Passages from the Sacred Poetry of All Ages and Countries, Classified and Arranged, for Facility of Reference, Under Subject Headings; Illustrated by Striking Passages from Scripture, and Forming Altogether a Complete Book of Devotional Poetry.

Religion

A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations: Consisting of Choice Passages from the Sacred Poetry of All Ages and Countries, Classified and Arranged, for Facility of Reference, Under Subject Headings; Illustrated by Striking Passages from Scripture, and Forming Altogether a Complete Book of Devotional Poetry.

Quotations; Religious poetry

Here finished he, and all that he had made
    Viewed, and behold all is entirely good;
    So even and morn accomplished the sixth day;
    Yet not till the _Creator_ from his work
    Desisting, though unwearied, up returned,
    Up to the heaven of heavens his high abode,
    Thence to behold his new _created_ world,
    Th’ addition of his empire, how it showed
    In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair,
    Answering his great idea. Up he rode,
    Followed by acclamation, and the sound
    Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tuned
    Angelic harmonies; the earth, the air,
    Resounded,
    The heavens and all the constellations rang,
    The planets in their stations listening stood,
    While the bright pomp ascended jubilant:--
    Open, ye everlasting gates, they sang,
    Open, ye heavens, your everlasting doors; let in
    The great _Creator_ from his work returned
    Magnificent, his six days’ work--a world.
                                            _Milton._


    My heart is awed within me, when I think
    Of the great miracle that still goes on,
    In silence, round me--the perpetual work
    Of thy _creation_, finished, yet renewed
    For ever.
                              _W. C. Bryant._


    From the throne of the Highest the mandate came forth,
      From the word of Omnipotent God;
    And the elements fashioned his footstool the earth,
      And the Heavens his holy abode:
    And his Spirit moved over the fathomless flood
      Of waters that fretted in darkness around,
    Until at his bidding, their turbulent mood
    Was hushed to a calm, and obedient they stood
      Where he fixed their perpetual bound.

    From the work of _creation_, which rose by his word,
      When finished the heavens and the earth;
    On the seventh day rested th’ Omnipotent Lord,
      As he looked on each beautiful birth:--
    On the firmament, stretched from the east to the west,
      On the far flowing sea, and the fast teeming land,
    And he saw they were good, and the Sabbath was blest,
    The Sabbath! the sanctified season of rest
      To the _creatures_ that came from his hand.
                                                    _Knox._


    Mysterious power! which guides by night
    Through darkest wood the illumined sight;
    Which prompts them, by the unerring smell,
    The appointed prey’s abode to tell;
    Bore with long bill the investing mould,
    And feel, and from the secret hold
    Dislodge the reptile spoil! But who
    Can look _Creation’s_ volume through,
    And not fresh proofs, at every turn,
    Of the _Creator’s_ mind discern:
    The end to which his actions tend,
    The means adapted to the end,
    The reasoning thought, the effective skill,
    And, ruling all, the Almighty will.
                                  _Bishop Mant._

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

Religion

A Cyclopædia of Sacred Poetical Quotations: Consisting of Choice Passages from the Sacred Poetry of All Ages and Countries, Classified and Arranged, for Facility of Reference, Under Subject Headings; Illustrated by Striking Passages from Scripture, and Forming Altogether a Complete Book of Devotional Poetry.

Quotations; Religious poetry

Here finished he, and all that he had made
    Viewed, and behold all is entirely good;
    So even and morn accomplished the sixth day;
    Yet not till the _Creator_ from his work
    Desisting, though unwearied, up returned,
    Up to the heaven of heavens his high abode,
    Thence to behold his new _created_ world,
    Th’ addition of his empire, how it showed
    In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair,
    Answering his great idea. Up he rode,
    Followed by acclamation, and the sound
    Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tuned
    Angelic harmonies; the earth, the air,
    Resounded,
    The heavens and all the constellations rang,
    The planets in their stations listening stood,
    While the bright pomp ascended jubilant:--
    Open, ye everlasting gates, they sang,
    Open, ye heavens, your everlasting doors; let in
    The great _Creator_ from his work returned
    Magnificent, his six days’ work--a world.
                                            _Milton._


    My heart is awed within me, when I think
    Of the great miracle that still goes on,
    In silence, round me--the perpetual work
    Of thy _creation_, finished, yet renewed
    For ever.
                              _W. C. Bryant._


    From the throne of the Highest the mandate came forth,
      From the word of Omnipotent God;
    And the elements fashioned his footstool the earth,
      And the Heavens his holy abode:
    And his Spirit moved over the fathomless flood
      Of waters that fretted in darkness around,
    Until at his bidding, their turbulent mood
    Was hushed to a calm, and obedient they stood
      Where he fixed their perpetual bound.

    From the work of _creation_, which rose by his word,
      When finished the heavens and the earth;
    On the seventh day rested th’ Omnipotent Lord,
      As he looked on each beautiful birth:--
    On the firmament, stretched from the east to the west,
      On the far flowing sea, and the fast teeming land,
    And he saw they were good, and the Sabbath was blest,
    The Sabbath! the sanctified season of rest
      To the _creatures_ that came from his hand.
                                                    _Knox._


    Mysterious power! which guides by night
    Through darkest wood the illumined sight;
    Which prompts them, by the unerring smell,
    The appointed prey’s abode to tell;
    Bore with long bill the investing mould,
    And feel, and from the secret hold
    Dislodge the reptile spoil! But who
    Can look _Creation’s_ volume through,
    And not fresh proofs, at every turn,
    Of the _Creator’s_ mind discern:
    The end to which his actions tend,
    The means adapted to the end,
    The reasoning thought, the effective skill,
    And, ruling all, the Almighty will.
                                  _Bishop Mant._

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

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