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 I. 
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 V. 
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 VIII. 
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What mean these questions?—Trembling I retract;
My prostrate soul adores the present God.
Praise I a distant Deity? He tunes
My voice (if tuned); the nerve that writes, sustains:
Wrapt in His being, I resound His praise:
But though past all diffused, without a shore,
His essence; local is His throne (as meet)
To gather the dispersed (as standards call
The listed from afar); to fix a point,
A central point, collective of his sons,
Since finite every nature but his own.