Let us sing to the Lord for he has gloriously triumphed.
Jubilate Deo, God, O how wonderful art thy works.
The twilight lake, utterly still, the sound of a stream, all disquiet silenced.
And in that clear sky, bright Venus, west rising lurks.
And this is my pang unbidden of doubt, I cannot reverse.
I see Virgo Hydra and Ursa Major, so vast, so distant.
Did a preacher, two thousand years ago create this universe?
The Milky Way lays her haze and she is the closest, millions are less insistent.
But can such order, such beauty by chance be created?
Certainly these works are gloriously wonderful.
No answer in logic or reason will I find, all conclusion is confounded.
But this I know in this mere breath of wind , a presence there is mysterious joyful.
Do all universes like needles have a point?
Was he that point.