One sun by day, by _night_ ten thousand shine, And light us deep into the Deity; How boundless in magnificence is _night_! O what a confluence of ethereal fires, From urns unnumber’d, down the steep of heaven, Streams to a point, and centres in my sight! Nor tarries there, I feel it at my heart. My heart, at once, it humbles, and exalts; Lays it in dust, and calls it to the skies. Who sees it unexalted? or unaw’d? Who sees it, and can stop at what is seen? Material offspring of Omnipotence! Inanimate, all animating birth! Work worthy Him who made it! worthy praise! All praise! praise more than human! nor denied Thy praise divine!--But tho’ man, drown’d in sleep, Withholds his homage, not alone I wake; Bright legions swarm unseen, and sing, unheard By mortal ear, the glorious Architect, In this his universal temple hung With lustres, with innumerable lights, That shed religion on the soul; at once The temple and the preacher! O how loved It calls devotion! genuine growth of _night_! _Young._ The glorious sun is gone, And the gathering darkness of _night_ comes on. Like a curtain from God’s kind hand it flows, To shade the couch where His children repose. Then kneel, while the watching stars are bright, And give your last thoughts to the Guardian of _night_. _Henry Ware, Jun._ And still as day concludes in _night_ To break again with new-born light, God’s wondrous bounty let me find, With still a more enlightened mind; When Grace and Love in one agree, Grace from God and Love from me; Grace that will from Heaven inspire, Love that seals it in desire. _Parnell._ Now, with religious awe, the farewell light Blends with the solemn colouring of the _night_. _Wordsworth._