First Complete Latin Philo

...appetite, unless the limits fixed in the midst had separated those things eager for conflict. These are evening and morning, the one of which announces the joyful arrival of the rising sun, gradually removing the darkness; the evening, however, follows the setting sun, gently receiving the encroaching shadows. And these very things—I mean morning and evening—must be placed in the order of incorporeal and intelligible things. For there is nothing at all sensible in them, but all are ideas, measures, places, and incorporeal seals, directed toward the generation of other corporeal things.

Light having been made and succeeding the darkness, and the limits of evening and morning having been fixed in the midst, the measure of time was necessarily soon effected, which the Artificer named "day"; and he called it not the "first" day, but "one": which is so named because of the singularity of the intelligible world, which possesses the nature of unity. And now that incorporeal world, situated in the Divine Word, was perfected, while this sensible world was being completed after the exemplar of the other: and before its other parts, the Founder made the most principal of all, namely the heaven, which he aptly called the firmament, as being a corporeal thing; for a body is naturally firm and solid, having three dimensions. Indeed, what other conception of a solid and a body can there be than dimension in every direction?

Justly, therefore, substituting this sensible and corporeal thing for the incorporeal, he called it the firmament: which he soon called οὐρανὸν, that is, "heaven," very aptly and properly: whether because it is the ὅρος, that is, the limit, of all things, or because it was the first of the ὁρατῶν, that is, the visible things, to be made. After the generation of which he names the second day, referring the entire span and measure of the day to the heaven, because of its dignity and honor among sensible things.

After these things, since all the water was diffused over the whole earth and had penetrated all its parts—just as a sponge drinks up moisture—so that it was confounded like some muddy marsh from both elements being soaked together, and was in a way fermented into one indistinguishable and formless nature: God commands that whatever of the waters was salt, and therefore likely to hinder the fertility of crops and trees, should be collected together and flow from all the openings of the earth into one place: then that the dry land should emerge, the sweet moisture being left in it for its preservation. For this moderate moisture serves as a glue for joining distant parts. By this it also happens that the earth, being not entirely dried out, is not rendered unfruitful and sterile; and that, like a mother, she may provide not only one kind of nourishment, food, but both—as it were, food and drink for her offspring.

Wherefore she overflowed with veins similar to breasts, which, issuing through caverns, might pour forth rivers and springs. Nevertheless, he also placed latent humors in all the fields and lands for the most abundant fertility of fruits. These things being thus disposed, the Author imposed names: the dry land he called "Earth," and the water separated therefrom "Sea." And so, proceeding to adorn the earth, he commands it to bring forth herbs and ears of grain, and to produce all kinds of vegetables, then meadows green with grass, and whatever was to serve as fodder for cattle or as food for men. By the same command all species of trees were also brought forth, none being omitted, whether of the cultivated or the wild kinds. And all these abounded in their own fruits immediately upon their very birth, otherwise than today. For now each thing is produced in its own turn, not all together. For who does not know that first comes the sowing and the planting, then follows the growth of the seeds and plants...