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Hail, scenes of holy grandeur! hail!

Where mortal sense stands hush'd and awed:--

Oh, who could gaze on such, and fail

To think of Thee, my GOD?

Alone and dread Thou dwellest here,

The Source and Soul of all I see.

I look around in joy and fear,

And feel I am with Thee!

I see Thee on the mountain sit,

At summer's noon, sublime and still;

Or, in the giant shadows flit

Along from hill to hill.

I read Thy presence and Thy power

In each eternal rock I meet;

I trace Thy love in every flower

That blossoms at my feet.

Thou speakest from each rolling cloud

That pours its stormy mirth on high,

When cliff to cliff is shouting loud,

Responsive to the sky:--

Thy voice at night is in the sound

Of sinking glaciers, rushing rills,

And avalanches thundering round

Among the startled hills:--

The mountain-mists in all their moods,

The snows by earthly feet untrod,--

The fells, the forests, and the floods,

Are all instinct with GOD.

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