Classic Poem

All creatures, by a force innate,
To quick destruction tend,
And speed from their initial state
To their appointed end.

God only, amid all that is,
Immovable remains;
And His creation o'er th' abyss
Of nothingness sustains.

Should He the mighty prop remove,
More quick than quickest thought,
All things around, beneath, above,
Would straight collapse to naught!

The loftiest Angel in the sky,
The vilest worm below,
Alike on Him for life rely,
To Him their being owe.