The countless hosts of twinkling stars,
That sing his praise with light renewed;
The rising sun each day declares,
In rays of glory, God is good.

The moon, that walks in brightness, says,
That God is good! and man, endued
With power to speak his Maker's praise,
Should still repeat that God is good.


EVENING.

How beautiful the setting sun!
The clouds how bright and gay!
The stars, appearing one by one,
How beautiful are they!

And when the moon climbs up the sky,
And sheds her gentle light,
And hangs her crystal lamp on high,
How beautiful is night!

And can it be I am possessed
Of something brighter far?
Glows there a light within this breast
Outshining every star?

Yes; should the sun and stars turn pale,
The mountains melt away,