In due order as they move, Echoes sweet be gently drove Thorough heaven's vast hollowness, Which unto all corners press— Music, that the heart of Jove Moves to joy, and sportful love; Fills the listening sailor's ears, Riding on the wandering spheres. Neither speech nor language is, Where their voice is not transmiss.
God is good, is wise, is strong, Witness all the creature-throng; Is confess'd by every tongue
All things-back from whence they sprung, As the thankful rivers pay
What they borrowed of the sea.
Now, myself, I do resign;
Take me whole, I all am thine.
Save me, God! from self-desire,
Death's pit, dark hell's raging fire;
Envy, hatred, vengeance, ire:
Quit from these, thy praise I'll sing,
Loudly sweep the trembling string.
Bear a part, O wisdom's sons!
Freed from vain religions.
Lo! from far I you salute,
Sweetly warbling on my lute.
India, Egypt, Araby,
Asia, Greece, and Tartary,
Carmel-tracts and Lebanon,
With the Mountains of the moon,
From whence muddy Nile doth run;
Or, whatever else you won,
Breathing in one vital air ;-
One we are though distant far.
Odours sweet perfume the skies.
See how heavenly lightning fires
Hearts inflamed with high aspires;
All the substance of our souls
Up in clouds of incense rolls!
Leave we nothing to ourselves
Save a voice-what need we else?
Or an hand to wear and tire
On the thankful lute or lyre.
Sing aloud; his praise rehearse
Who hath made the universe.
SIX days the heavenly host, in circle vast,
Like that untouching cincture which enzones
The globe of Saturn, compassed wide this orb,
And with the forming mass floated along
In rapid course, through yet untravelled space.
Beholding God's stupendous power, a world
Bursting from Chaos at the omnific will,
And perfect ere the sixth day's evening star
On Paradise arose. Blessed that eve!
The Sabbath's harbinger, when, all complete,
In freshest beauty from Jehovah's hand,
Creation bloomed; when Eden's twilight face
Smiled like a sleeping babe: the voice divine
A holy calm breathed o'er the goodly work;
Mildly the sun upon the loftiest tree
Shed mellowly a sloping beam. Peace reigned,
And love, and gratitude; the human pair
Their orisons poured forth; love, concord reigned.
The falcon perched upon the blooming bough
With Philomela, listened to her lay;
Among the antlered herd the tiger couched
Harmless; the lion's mane no terror spread
Among the careless, ruminating flock.
Silence was o'er the deep; the noiseless surge,
The last subsiding wave-of that dread tumult
Which raged when ocean at the mute command
Rushed furiously into his new-cleft bed,-
Was gently rippling on the pebbled shore;
While on the swell the sea-bird, with her head
Wing-veiled, slept tranquilly. The host of
heaven,
Entranced in new delight, speechless adored; Nor stopped their fleet career, nor changed their form
Encircular till on that hemisphere,
In which the blissful garden sweet exhaled
Its incense, odorous clouds,-the Sabbath dawn
Arose; then wide the flying circle sped,
And soared in semblance of a mighty rainbow.
Silent ascend the choirs of seraphim,
No harp resounds, mute each voice is: the burst
Of joy and praise reluctant they repress,-
For love and concord all things so attuned
To harmony, that earth must have received
The grand vibration, and to the centre shook :
But soon as to the starry altitudes
They reached, then what a storm of sound tremendous
Swelled through the realms of space.
Together sang, and all the sons of God
Shouted for joy! Loud was the peal; so loud As would have quite o'erwhelmed human sense: But to the earth it came a gentle strain,
Like softest fall breathed from Æolian lute,
When 'mid the chords the evening gale expires.
"Day of the Lord! creation's hallowed close!
Day of the Lord! (prophetical they sung)
Benignant mitigation of that doom
Which must ere long consign the fallen race,
Dwellers in yonder star, to toil and woe.”
The Rock of Humanity.
ON piety, humanity is built;
And on humanity, much happiness;
And yet still more on piety itself.
A soul in commerce with her God is Heaven;
Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life;
The whirls of passions, and the strokes of heart.
A Deity believ'd, is joy begun;
A Deity ador'd, is joy advanc'd;
A Deity belov'd, is joy matur'd.
Each branch of piety delight inspires;
Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next,
O'er death's dark gulf, and all its horrour hides;
Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy,
That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter still;
Prayer ardent opens Heaven, lets down a stream
Of glory on the consecrated hour
Of
Who worships the Great God, that instant joins
The first in Heaven, and sets his foot on Hell.
EDWARD YOUNG.
in audience with the Deity,
The Spirit of the Pilgrim Fathers.
HE Pilgrim Fathers-where are they?
The waves that brought them o'er
Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray
As they break along the shore:
Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day,
When the May-Flower moored below,
When the sea around was black with storms,
And white the shore with snow.
The mists that wrapped the pilgrims' sleep,
Still brood upon the tide ;
And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep,
To stay its waves of pride.
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