The Song of the Fleecy Cloud

Fear not, all ye who dwell below!
I menace not your peaceful clime,
No fierce, destructive torrents flow
From my pellucid face sublime.

All ye who tell the stars at night,
All ye who love the world God made,
Look also on my visage white;
For here God's glory is displayed.

In Him my whiteness forms and moves;
From Him my being I derive.
To Him I tend, as it behooves;
To serve His ends I daily strive.

And lo! A lesson ye may learn
Whene'er ye see me float on high,
Where God, whose goodness none should spurn,
Doth lead me gently in the sky:

As peacefully I float at ease,
So God in peace the world designed.
As I am borne by gentle breeze,
So God impels with goodness kind.