While I, O Lord, exalted by Thy hand
Above the skies, in glory seem to stand,
The skies being made to serve me, as they do,
While I thy Glories in thy Goodness view.
To be in Glory higher than the skies
Is greater bliss than 'tis in place to rise
Above the Stars: More blessed and divine
To live and see than like the Sun to shine.
O what Profoundness in my Body lies
For whom the Earth was made, the Sea, the Skies!
So greatly high our human Bodies are
That Angels scarcely may with these compare:
In all the heights of Glory seated, they
Above the Sun in Thine eternal day
Are seen to shine; with greater gifts adorned
Than Gold with Light or Flesh with Life suborned;
Suns are but Servants, Skies beneath their feet:
The Stars but Stones; Moons but to serve them meet.
Beyond all heights above the World they reign
In thy great Throne ordained to remain.
All Tropes are Clouds; Truth doth itself excel,
Whatever Heights Hyperboles can tell.