THE BAR OF SCIENCE
Whothwarts thy will?O Science, who can stop thine onward sweep,Or lay a bar ’fore thine ambitious ways?Oh, who will fling the gauntlet down to theeAnd dare estop thee in thy feats of skillThat thou so bold perform’st? None, none of man,But God alone. He knows what mysteriesTo scuttle from thy sight.Were’t not for Him,Thou would’st unmine the whole great globe of man;Draw figures o’er the moon’s frail, verdant map;Bind all the planets to our earth’s great orb;And, cooling, freeze the sun’s most torrid heat,Or give it greater fire. Thou’d’st chain the thunderbolt;Catch heaven’s lightning in thine own great leashFor man’s devising smiths.But let us praise theeFor what thy dare-all, do-all skill hath wroughtOn earth alone. Thou’st built the flying planes,The heaving ships—dark instruments of war;Thou’st wrought the grafting of man’s hearts and brains,The coinage of bright pearls and rubies rare,The speeding trains, the horseless vehicles,—But naught ’gainst God’s great will.For thou’st not reachedWhere thou can’st scorn our great Creator’s skill,For thou know’st not the essence of the soul,That which ’bove all he holds firm in his mighty hand.Yea, yea, with all thy vaunted boast of power,Thou canst not His great’st handiwork outdo,—Thou canst not e’er make man!
Whothwarts thy will?O Science, who can stop thine onward sweep,Or lay a bar ’fore thine ambitious ways?Oh, who will fling the gauntlet down to theeAnd dare estop thee in thy feats of skillThat thou so bold perform’st? None, none of man,But God alone. He knows what mysteriesTo scuttle from thy sight.Were’t not for Him,Thou would’st unmine the whole great globe of man;Draw figures o’er the moon’s frail, verdant map;Bind all the planets to our earth’s great orb;And, cooling, freeze the sun’s most torrid heat,Or give it greater fire. Thou’d’st chain the thunderbolt;Catch heaven’s lightning in thine own great leashFor man’s devising smiths.But let us praise theeFor what thy dare-all, do-all skill hath wroughtOn earth alone. Thou’st built the flying planes,The heaving ships—dark instruments of war;Thou’st wrought the grafting of man’s hearts and brains,The coinage of bright pearls and rubies rare,The speeding trains, the horseless vehicles,—But naught ’gainst God’s great will.For thou’st not reachedWhere thou can’st scorn our great Creator’s skill,For thou know’st not the essence of the soul,That which ’bove all he holds firm in his mighty hand.Yea, yea, with all thy vaunted boast of power,Thou canst not His great’st handiwork outdo,—Thou canst not e’er make man!
Whothwarts thy will?O Science, who can stop thine onward sweep,Or lay a bar ’fore thine ambitious ways?Oh, who will fling the gauntlet down to theeAnd dare estop thee in thy feats of skillThat thou so bold perform’st? None, none of man,But God alone. He knows what mysteriesTo scuttle from thy sight.
Whothwarts thy will?
O Science, who can stop thine onward sweep,
Or lay a bar ’fore thine ambitious ways?
Oh, who will fling the gauntlet down to thee
And dare estop thee in thy feats of skill
That thou so bold perform’st? None, none of man,
But God alone. He knows what mysteries
To scuttle from thy sight.
Were’t not for Him,Thou would’st unmine the whole great globe of man;Draw figures o’er the moon’s frail, verdant map;Bind all the planets to our earth’s great orb;And, cooling, freeze the sun’s most torrid heat,Or give it greater fire. Thou’d’st chain the thunderbolt;Catch heaven’s lightning in thine own great leashFor man’s devising smiths.
Were’t not for Him,
Thou would’st unmine the whole great globe of man;
Draw figures o’er the moon’s frail, verdant map;
Bind all the planets to our earth’s great orb;
And, cooling, freeze the sun’s most torrid heat,
Or give it greater fire. Thou’d’st chain the thunderbolt;
Catch heaven’s lightning in thine own great leash
For man’s devising smiths.
But let us praise theeFor what thy dare-all, do-all skill hath wroughtOn earth alone. Thou’st built the flying planes,The heaving ships—dark instruments of war;Thou’st wrought the grafting of man’s hearts and brains,The coinage of bright pearls and rubies rare,The speeding trains, the horseless vehicles,—But naught ’gainst God’s great will.
But let us praise thee
For what thy dare-all, do-all skill hath wrought
On earth alone. Thou’st built the flying planes,
The heaving ships—dark instruments of war;
Thou’st wrought the grafting of man’s hearts and brains,
The coinage of bright pearls and rubies rare,
The speeding trains, the horseless vehicles,—
But naught ’gainst God’s great will.
For thou’st not reachedWhere thou can’st scorn our great Creator’s skill,For thou know’st not the essence of the soul,That which ’bove all he holds firm in his mighty hand.Yea, yea, with all thy vaunted boast of power,Thou canst not His great’st handiwork outdo,—Thou canst not e’er make man!
For thou’st not reached
Where thou can’st scorn our great Creator’s skill,
For thou know’st not the essence of the soul,
That which ’bove all he holds firm in his mighty hand.
Yea, yea, with all thy vaunted boast of power,
Thou canst not His great’st handiwork outdo,—
Thou canst not e’er make man!