To Thee the seas give sounding glory,
Before Thee the abyss stands mute,
The constellations burn and quiver,
The stars’ chorale hums like a lute.
To Thee the streams do sweetly sing
And redden in the flaming dawns,
The mountains to Thy heights ascend,
All shining with eternal snows.
Of wisdom do the forests murmur,
And flowers do their fragrance cense,
Of Thee do testify the dews,
The dark of nights, the light of days,
The midnight dawn of Arctic ice,
The cliffs, the crags, the misty fogs,
The fading and the bloom of things,
And caravans of springtime clouds.
And even reptiles fall before Thee,
When seeing Thy thrice-radiant light,
And all the oceans hymn hosannah
To the Creator of all worlds bright.
I am a lowly worm before Thee,
But from my heart, O Lord and God,
Does issue forth my sacred hymn,
So unlike any earthly ode.
- V. N. Utrenev, To Thee
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff (source)