He heaven made his canopy;
His chambers in the waters lye:
His chariot is the cloudy storm,
And on the wings of wind is born.

He spirits makes his angels quire,
His ministers a flaming fire.
He so did earth's foundations cast,
It might remain for ever fast:

Then cloath'd it with the spacious deep,
Whose wave out-swells the mountains steep.
At thy rebuke the waters fled,
And hid their thunder-frighted head.

They from the mountains streaming flow,
And down into the vallies go:
Then to their liquid center hast,
Where their collected floods are cast.

These in the ocean met, and joyn'd,
Thou hast within a bank confin'd:
Not suff'ring them to pass their bound,
Lest earth by their excess be drown'd.

He from the hills his chrystal springs
Down running to the vallies brings:
Which drink supply, and coolness yield,
To thirsting beasts throughout the field.