The slumbering Iguanodon[4] Lay reeking in mephitic damp-- The Mylodon and Mastodon Startled the forests with their tramp. Gigantic ferns, like feathery palms, Nodded in silence to the trees, Whose royal crests and stalwart arms Tossed like the waves of stormy seas. Thus on, still on the current rolled-- The light of countless mornings shone; And radiant sunsets robed in gold, Swept down the gulfs of years unknown. At length, with beasts, and birds, and flowers, Creation seemed a perfect whole; Then God and Nature joined their powers, And man became a living soul. O Mother Nature! Father God! How wondrous is the work we trace! Man fashioned from the senseless clod, Yet filled with life’s divinest grace. Nor is that form of earthly mold The limit of his life to be; Forth from the mortal will unfold The germ of immortality. For even as through countless throes, And travail pains, the mighty plan Of God in Nature slowly rose, To consummate its aims in man, Thus onward still the current rolls, The spirit with the flesh at strife, Until, at length, all living souls Are quickened from the inmost life. Across the broad, unfathomed sea, That breaks upon the shores of time, The promise of the _yet to be_ Comes like a prophecy sublime. The purple gloom, that like a veil Rests on that ever swelling tide, Full oft reveals a friendly sail, With tidings from the further side. O soul of man! to conscious power From elements of death outwrought, The Living Word forecast thine hour, And found the dwelling-place it sought. High in the heavens forevermore, The stars of truth eternal shine; Sail on, O man, from shore to shore; The power that guides thee is divine. In the beginning was the Word-- The Word as present now as then-- And by its quickening power is stirred New life within the souls of men. Thus on, still on, the current rolls, Through daisies blooming on the sod, Through creeping things, though living souls, Through “quickened spirits” up to God. HYMN TO THE SUN. O FOUNTAIN of beauty, of gladness and light, Whose pathway is set in the infinite hight, Whose light hath no shadow, whose day hath no night! We know not thy birthplace, O wonderful one! We count not the ages through which thou hast run, But we render thee praises, O life-giving Sun. All day the glad Earth in thy loving embrace, Arrayed by thy bounty in garments of grace, Lifts up to thy glances her beautiful face. And at night, when her children need silence and rest, With the light of her starry-eyed sisterhood blest, She sleeps like a bride on thy cherishing breast.