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Mean time, the lambent prodigies on high
Take gamesome measures in the sky;

Joy'd with his future feast, the thunder roars,

In chorus to th' enormous harmony;

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And halloos to his offspring from sulphureous stores, Applauding how they tilt and how they fly,

And their each nimble turn, and radiant embassy.


The moon turns paler at the sight,

And all the blazing orbs deny their light;
The lightning, with its livid tail,

A train of glittʼring terrors draws behind,
Which o'er the trembling world prevail;
Wing'd, and blown on, by storms of wind,
They show the hideous leaps on either hand
Of night, that spreads her ebon curtains round,

And there erects her royal stand,

In seven-fold winding jet her conscious temples bound.


'The stars next starting from their spheres In giddy revolutions leap and bound. Whilst this with double fury glares,

And meditates new wars,

And wheels in sportive gyres around,
Its neighbour shall advance to fight,
And while each offers to enlarge its right,

The general ruin shall increase,

And banish all the votaries of peace. No more the stars, with paler beams, Shall tremble o'er the midnight streams, But travel downward to behold,

What mimics 'em so twinkling there;

And like Narcissus as they gain more near,
For the lov'd image, straight expire,
And agonize in warm desire,

Or slake their lust, as in the stream they roll.


Whilst the world burns, and all the orbs below
In their viperous ruins glow,

They sink, and unsupported leave the skies,

Which fall abrupt, and tell their torment in the noise. Then see th' Almighty Judge, sedate and bright,

Cloth'd in imperial robes of light,

His wings the winds, rough storms the chariot bear, And nimbler harbingers before him fly,

And with officious rudeness brush the air, Halt as he halts, then doubling in their flight, In horrid sport, with one another vie,

And leave behind quick winding tracks of light;

Then urging, to their ranks they close,

And shiv'ring lest they start, a sailing caravan compose.


The mighty Judge rides in tempestuous state, Whilst menial guards of flame his orders wait; His waving vestments shine,

Bright as the sun, which lately did its beams resign, And burnish'd wreaths of light shall make his form divine;

Strong beams of majesty around his temples play, And the transcendent gaiety of his face allay.

His Father's reverend characters he'll wear, And both o'erwhelm with light, and over-awe with fear. Myriads of angels shall be there,

And I, perhaps, close the tremendous rear. Angels, the first and fairest sons of day, Clad with eternal youth, and as their vestments gay.


'Nor for magnificence alone,

To brighten and enlarge the pageant scene; Shall we encircle his more dazzling throne, And swell the lustre of his pompous train ; The nimble ministers of bliss or woe,

We shall attend, and save, or deal the blow,
As he admits to joy, or bids to pain.


The welcome news,

Thro' ev'ry angel's breast, fresh raptures shall diffuse.
The day is come,

When Satan with his pow'rs shall sink to endless doom;
No more shall we his hostile troops pursue,
From cloud to cloud, nor the long fight renew.


Then Raphael, big with life, the trump shall sound; From falling spheres, the joyful music shall rebound, And seas and shores shall catch and propagate it round. Louder he'll blow, and it shall speak more shrill, Than when, from Sinai's hill,

In thunder, through the horrid redd'ning smoke,
Th' Almighty spoke.

We'll shout around with martial joy,

And thrice the vaulted skies shall rend, and thrice our shouts reply.

Then first th' Archangel's voice, aloud,

Shall cheerfully salute the day and throng;

And hallelujahs fill the crowd,

And I, perhaps, shall close the song.


From its long sleep, all human race shall rise; And see the morn, and Judge advancing in the skies. To their long tenements the souls return,

Whilst down the steep of Heav'n, as swift the Judge


These look illustrious bright, no more to mourn,
Whilst, see! distracted looks yon stalking shades attend.
The saints no more shall conflict on the deep,
Nor rugged waves insult the lab'ring ship;
But from the wreck in triumph they arise,
And borne to bliss, shall tread empyreal skies.



PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire,
Unutter'd or exprest;

The motion of a hidden fire,
That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
The falling of a tear;
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try;

Prayer the sublimest strains that reach
The Majesty on high.

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,
The Christian's native air;

His watchword at the gates of death,-
He enters heaven by prayer.

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,
Returning from his ways;
While angels in their songs rejoice,
And say, 'Behold he prays.'
The saints in prayer appear as one

In word, and deed, and mind,
When with the Father and his Son

Their fellowship they find.

Nor prayer is made on earth alone,
The Holy Spirit pleads;

And Jesus on the eternal throne
For sinners intercedes.

O Thou, by whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way;
The path of prayer thyself hast trod;
Lord, teach us how to pray.



OH! thou that dwellest in the heavens so high,
Beyond yon star, within yon sky,

Where the dazzling fields need no other light,
Nor the sun by day, nor the moon by night,
Though shining millions around thee stand,
For the sake of Him at thy right hand,
Oh! think on the souls he died for here,
Thus wandering in darkness, in doubt, and fear.

The powers of darkness are all abroad,
They own no Saviour, and they fear no God;
And we are trembling in dumb dismay,
Oh! turn not thou thy face away.

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