The perfect world, by Adam trod,

Was the first temple built to God;

His fiat laid the corner-stone,

And heaved its pillars one by one.

2 He hung its starry roof on high—

The broad, illimitable sky;

He spread its pavement, green and bright,

And curtained it with morning light.

3 The mountains in their places stood,

The sea—the sky—and “all was good;”

And when its first few praises rang,

The “morning stars together sang.”

4 Lord, ’tis not ours to make the sea,

And earth, and sky, a house for thee;

But in thy sight our offering stands—

An humbler temple, “made with hands.”

5 We can not bid the morning star

To sing how bright thy glories are;

But, Lord, if thou wilt meet us here,

Thy praise shall be the Christian’s tear.