THE moon is very fair and bright,
And also very high:
I think it is a pretty sight
To see it in the sky:
It shone upon me where I lay,
And seemed almost as bright as day.
The stars are very pretty too,
And scattered all about–
At first there seem a very few;
But soon the rest come out:
I'm sure I could not count them all,
They are so very bright and small.
The sun is brighter still than they:
He blazes in the skies;
I dare not turn my face that way,
Unless I shut my eyes:
Yet when he shines our hearts revive,
And all the trees rejoice and thrive.
God made and keeps them every one,
By his great power and might:
He is more glorious than the sun,
And all the stars of light:
But when we end our mortal race,
The pure in heart shall see his face.
