Father Above the Concave Sky

Father above the con­cave sky

Enthroned in light pro­found

At Thy com­mand

the light­nings fly

And thun­ders roar around.

O who can see the beam­ing sun

The smil­ing moon at night

The snowy clouds

the count­less stars

Enrobed with dazz­ling light

And yet re­fuse to sing Thy praise

In sweet­est notes of love?

Or echo to an­gel­ic lays

Which fill the worlds ab­ove?

Whene’er I tread the bloom­ing plains

And pluck the frag­rant flow­er

The lus­cious fruits

the yel­low grains

I see Thy match­less pow­er.

What moves on earth

or wings the air

Or swims the swell­ing sea

Is but a ray of life to point

Immortal man to Thee.