These are thy glorious works, Parent of good; _Almighty!_ this thy universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then; Unspeakable! who sitt’st above the heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought and power divine. Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels! for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing: ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. _Milton._ What though th’ _Almighty’s_ regal throne High o’er yon azure heaven’s exalted dome, By mortal eye unkenned; where east, nor west, Nor south, nor blustering north has breath to blow: Albeit he then with angels and with saints Holds conference, and to his radiant host E’en face to face, stands visibly confest; Yet know that not in presence nor in power, Shines he less perfect here: ’tis man’s dim eye That makes the obscurity. _Christopher Stuart._ Tell me, hast ever thought upon the Being Whom we _Almighty_ call? Hast ever sent Thy prayerful thoughts unto His holy throne? And felt His power, and trembled at the thought? If not, I cannot call thee man! thou art A stone, a clod, a dull insensate thing. _Old Play._ _Almighty_ Father, gracious Lord, Kind guardian of my days, Thy mercies let my heart record In songs of grateful praise. In life’s first dawn, my tender frame, Was thy indulgent care, Long ere I could pronounce thy name, Or breathe the infant prayer. Each rolling year new favours brought From thy exhaustless store; But ah! in vain my lab’ring thought, Would count thy mercies o’er. While sweet reflection, through my days, Thy bounteous hand would trace; Still dearer blessings claim my praise, The blessings of thy grace. _Steele._ _Almighty_ Father of mankind, On thee my hopes remain; And, when the day of trouble comes, I shall not trust in vain. Thou art our kind preserver, from The cradle to the tomb, And I was cast upon thy care, E’en from my mother’s womb. Thou wilt not cast me off, when age And evil days descend; Thou wilt not leave me in despair To mourn my latter end. Therefore in life I’ll trust in thee, In death I will adore; And after death will sing thy praise, When time shall be no more. _Logan._ AMBITION. A high look, and a proud heart, and the ploughing of the wicked is sin.--Proverbs, xxi. 4.