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The LORD hath builded for Himself

He needs no earthly dome;

The universe His dwelling is,

Eternity His home.

Yon glorious sky His temple stands,

So lofty, bright, and blue,

All lamp'd with stars, and curtain'd round

With clouds of every hue,

Earth is His altar: Nature there

Her daily tribute pays;

The elements upon Him wait;

The seasons roll His praise.

Where shall I see Him? How describe

The Dread, Eternal One?

His foot-prints are in every place,

Himself is found in none.

He call'd the world, and it arose;

The heavens and they appear'd;

His hand pour'd forth the mighty deep;

His arm the mountains rear'd.

He sets His foot upon the hills,

And earth beneath Him quakes;

He walks upon the hurricane,

And in the thunder speaks.

--I search the rounds of space and time,

Nor find His semblance there--

Grandeur has nothing so sublime,

Nor Beauty half so fair.

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