Let there be light, thus spake the Word;
The Word was God, and there was light;
Still the cre­at­ive voice is heard;
A day is born from ev­ery night.

And ev­ery night shall turn to day,
While months, and years, and ag­es roll;
But we have seen a bright­er ray
Dawn on the cha­os of the soul.

Nor we alone; its wak­en­ing smiles
Have broke the gloom of pa­gan sleep:
The Word hath reached the ut­most isles,
God’s Spir­it moves up­on the deep.

Already from the dust of death,
Man in his mak­er’s im­age stands;
Once more in­hales im­mor­tal breath,
And stretch­es forth to Heav’n his hands.

From day to day, be­fore our eyes,
Glows and ex­tends the work be­gun;
When shall the new cre­ation rise
On ev­ery land be­neath the sun?

When, in the Sab­bath of His love,
Shall God amidst His la­bors rest;
And, bend­ing from His throne ab­ove,
Again pro­nounce His crea­tures blessed?