Great And Omnipotent That Power Must Be, That Wings The Whirlwind And Directs The Storm, That, By A Strong Convulsion, Severed Thee, And Wrought This Wondrous Chasm In Thy Form. Man Is A Dweller, Where, In Some Past Day, Thy Rock-Ribbed Frame Majestically Rose; The River Rushes On Its New-Made Way, And All Is Life Where All Was Once Repose. Pleased, As I Gazed Upon Thy Lofty Brow Where Nature Seems Her Loveliest Robes To Wear, I Felt That Pride At Such A Scene Must Bow, And Own Its Insignificancy There. Oh Thou, To Whom Directing Worlds Is Play, Thy Condescension Without Bounds Must Be, If Man, The Frail Ephemera Of A Day, Be Graciously Regarded Still By Thee. Here, As I Ponder On Thy Mighty Deeds, And Marvel At Thy Bounteousness To Me, While Wrapt In Solemn Awe, My Bosom Bleeds, Lest Recklessly I May Have Wounded Thee,-- Wounded That Being Who Is Fain To Call The Heavy-Laden And The Wearied Home; The Dear Redeemer! He Who Died That All Might To His Glorious In-Gathering Come.