God moulds the vapours in the air,
He whitens there the snow;
And, with its fleeces, broad and fair,
He clothes the earth below.

He bids the rain, by little crowds,
Fall down in fruitful show'rs:
Or, if he pleases, from the clouds,
Vast spouts of water pours:

Then human hands are quite seal'd up,
From labour in the field,
That when man's work is at a stop,
God's work may be reveal'd.

The savage brutes and beasts of prey,
These dreadful tempests chase;
From deserts wild they haste away
Unto their lurking place:

If whirlwinds turbulent come forth,
Or from the south appear;
Cold scatt'ring blasts come from the north,
The air to purge and clear.

God's breath creates the frost, the blast
Of this restringent wind
Doth broad and spreading waters, fast,
With chrystal fetters, bind.

These breathings turn to solid glass,
The lakes on which they blow,
Benumb the floods that use to pass
And teach them not to flow.

His thickest clouds, by wat'ring spent,
He wearies and dissolves;
His brightest clouds, asunder rent,
He scatters and resolves.

These by his counsels turn'd about,
And manag'd by his hand,
Move and direct their circling rout
And course at his command.

These vapours that surround the sky
And this low region fill,
All restless and obedient fly,
To execute his will.

Hence noxious rain comes often times,
For judgment, at his call,
On guilty nations, for their crimes,
To let his vengeance fall.

Or when he would his bounty shew,
And mercy to his land,
In plenty then the fruitful dew
Descends at his command.