Written At The Delaware Water Gap.

Great and omnipotent that Power must be,     That wings the whirlwind and directs the storm,     That, by a strong convulsion, severed thee,     And wrought this wondrous chasm in thy form.     Man is a dweller, where, in some past day,     Thy rock-ribbed frame majestically rose;     The river rushes on its new-made way,     And all is life where all was once repose.     Pleased, as I gazed upon thy lofty brow     Where Nature seems her loveliest robes to wear,     I felt that Pride at such a scene must bow,     And own its insignificancy there.     Oh Thou, to whom directing worlds is play,     Thy condescension without bounds must be,     If man, the frail ephemera of a day,     Be graciously regarded still by Thee.     Here, as I ponder on Thy mighty deeds,     And marvel at Thy bounteousness to me,     While wrapt in solemn awe, my bosom bleeds,     Lest recklessly I may have wounded Thee,--     Wounded that Being who is fain to call     The heavy-laden and the wearied home;     The dear Redeemer! He who died that all     Might to his glorious in-gathering come.