I The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue etherial sky,
And spangled heav’ns, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim.

II Th’ unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator’s pow’r display;
And publishes to every land
The work of an almighty hand.

III Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wond'rous tale;
And, nightly to the list’ning earth,
Repeats the story of her birth:

IV Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

V What though in solemn silence all,
Move round the dark terrestrial ball;
What though no real voice nor sound,
Amidst their radiant orbs be found;

VI In reason’s ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
For ever singing, as they shine,
"The hand that made us is divine."