Where does he dwell? Look up to yonder arch,
Where thick as dust the starry gems are strown,
To yon expanse, where, in their noiseless march,
The Planets move, like outguards of the throne.

Pass on in thought — shoot o'er this pale of light,
This simple confine of a brighter sphere,
And then, advanced to more than Pisgah height,
Survey the realm, undimmed by Sorrow's tear.

In that recess — unscann'd by impious eye,
Rich in the store of uncreated bliss,
Wrapt in a garb of pure Infinity,
Himself uncaused — but power creative his —

In that recess — the Infinite Unknown,
His glorious court for boundless ages keeps;
His arm can wield Omnipotence alone,
His eye Omniscient, slumbers not, nor sleeps.

But, humble Christian, in thy bosom dwells,
Not one sole ray from that Almighty mind,
But that which in its glory far excels ,
And leaves created splendor all behind.

Thou art Christophorus — thine inmost heart
Enshrines the Word — he reigns in thee supreme;
A Temple of the Holy Ghost thou art,
An honored vessel in thy God's esteem.

Oh, lowly bosom, what a wondrous guest,
Unseen by human eye, but all thine own,
Thy heart — on it, the true Shecinah rests, —
Its Ark — its Altar — and its mystic Throne.

Then let such union blest be sundered not;
And when thy race of victory be run,
Quick as the levin-flash, and swift as thought,
Soar up and blend with God, as fire that seeks the Sun.