I count the mercifullest part of all <br />God's mercies, in this coil of eighty years, <br />Is that no sense of being disappears <br />Or fails; I see the signal, hear the call, <br />Can calmly estimate the rise and fall <br />Of moth-like mortals in this "vale of tears"; <br />And all His glorious works--the heavenly spheres, <br />The ocean, and the earth's unending wall-- <br />Remain, for thought and wonder! Marvellous <br />Is God's creation, with its endless space <br />And those inhabited bright worlds by law <br />Divinely governed, as they shine on us, <br />Still keeping through all time their ordered place; <br />I bow my head in rapture and in awe.<br /><br />Sir Henry Parkes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/four-score/
