I will press the brain to walk
The eyes will rise to observe
And the pen will be made to talk
So the task ends not in a swerve

I will voice the worth of His might
For the deaf to hear and dance
I will cast to the dim of the night
So the blind may see at a glance

By the force of the mightiest word
By the wisdom of the omnipotence
By the nature of the voice unheard
The tasks of the cosmos commence

It is God that makes but is unmade
Nor in the tasks He seeks for an aid
Not a second to the effect delayed
All appear with His commands obeyed

Creatures are divers and all in rank
Few on the land, in the air and sea
And hidden worlds are not in blank
The whole exist with th' power of 'be'

See the heavens in layers on layers
Seven aloft the earth sans pillars
Not can men tell of patent barriers
Praise to Thee, O the Best of makers

See the terra-firma as it laid out wide
Oiling the wheels for the men to ride
When the earth and the rain collide
In cultivation with bounties provide

He fashioned the angels as so desired
Their being, with wings, by all admired
And were shaped for the work required:
Worship, praise and not a bit retired

Espy the flitting avian in the sky
Like a seraph in the Empyrean fly
For viands roving th' desert of Dubai
Nay un-luck, just on their Lord rely

Scan the routine life of the bees
How they swarm and live on trees
And as they dine as God decrees
Lo! Honey to man, a cure for disease

See how complex ye art made from clay
Man, sanest being, endued with senses
What scale of deeds, ye can, to repay?
Or can spend to match from expenses?

See designs He gives to the tongue
Most sweet and bitter of the lung
Yet made for His praise to be sung
Men for selves, it's used to the wrong

Ideate the states of the deaf and blind
Then see the worth of ears and eyes
Little of thanks do ye give to remind
Grateful He wants our God, Most-Wise

Ye ever spot Mighty sign in thy sleep?
Nor ever think of thy doom at night?
Aid-memoire over which sages weep
But slumber, nay, never take His sight

See in the alternating night and day
The moon, the sun as it shines its ray
As planned, each runs in its pathway
None, His orders, will never disobey

See illness not as grief but a test
Loss of life is a sermon for the rest
But believers do use this to their best
Look to the End from Him to be blest

Is He Who causes dead land to life
Not able, afterlife, to revive your soul?
Nay, His might is strong and rife
And over all things He has control

I have scoured every nook and cranny
The task for brain appears of irony
It seems His blessings are too many
And the eyes, the pen becoming puny

I have gathered and known by sight
His signs exceed the mouth can say
And never for what the pen can write
Nor in extent, what the scale can weigh

His signs reflect so great and plain
That the blind could sense and eye
Our Lord made all these not in vain
So which of His favours do ye deny?