The happy day,1 and happy year,
Both in our new salvation meet;

The day that quench'd the burning snare,
The year that burnt the invading fleet.

Now did thine arm, O God of Hosts,
Now did thine arm shine dazzling bright;
The sons of might their hands had lost,
And men of blood forgot to fight.

Brigades of angels lined the way,
And guarded William to his throne;
There, ye celestial warriors, stay,
And make his palace like your own.

Then, mighty God, the earth shall know
And learn the worship of the sky;
Angels and Britons join below,
To raise their hallelujahs high.

All hallelujah, heavenly King;
While distant lands thy victory sing,
And tongues their utmost powers employ,
The world's bright roof repeats the joy.

1 Nov. 5, 1688.

2 Nov. 5, 1588.

THE INCOMPREHENSIBLE.

FAR in the heavens my God retires,
My God, the mark of my desires,
And hides his lovely face;
When he descends within my view,

He charms my reason to pursue,

But leaves it tir'd and fainting in the unequal chase.

Or if I reach unusual height,

Till near his presence brought,
There floods of glory check my flight,
Cramp the bold pinions of my wit,

And all untune my thought:

Plung'd in a sea of light I roll,

Where wisdom, justice, mercy, shines;

Infinite rays in crossing lines

Beat thick confusion on my sight, and overwhelm my soul.

Come to my aid, ye fellow-minds,

And help me reach the throne;
What single strength in vain designs,
United force hath done;

Thus worms may join, and grasp the poles,

Thus atoms fill the sea:

But the whole race of creature-souls,

Stretch'd to their last extent of thought, plunge and are lost in thee.

Great God, behold my reason lies
Adoring; yet my love would rise
On pinions not her own;

Faith shall direct her humble flight,

Through all the trackless seas of light,

To thee, the eternal Fair, the infinite Unknown.

DEATH AND ETERNITY.

My thoughts, that often mount the skies,
Go, search the world beneath,
Where nature in all ruin lies,

And owns her sovereign, death.

The tyrant, how he triumphs here!
His trophies spread around,
And heaps of dust and bones appear
Through all the hollow ground.

These skulls, what ghastly figures now!
How loathsome to the eyes!

These are the heads we lately knew
So beauteous and so wise.

But where the souls, those deathless things, That left this dying clay?

My thoughts, now stretch out all your wings, And trace eternity.

O that unfathomable sea!

Those deeps without a shore! Where living waters gently play,

Or fiery billows roar.

Thus must we leave the banks of life,
And try this doubtful sea;

Vain are our groans, and dying strife,
To gain a moment's stay.

There we shall swim in heavenly bliss,
Or sink in flaming waves,

While the pale carcass thoughtless lies,
Amongst the silent graves.

Some hearty friend shall drop his tear

On our dry bones, and say,

"These once were strong, as mine appear, "And mine must be as they."

Thus shall our mouldering members teach

What now our senses learn:

For dust and ashes loudest preach
Man's infinite concern.

A SIGHT OF HEAVEN IN SICKNESS

OFT have I sat in secret sighs,

To feel my flesh decay,

Then groan'd aloud with frighted eyes, To view the tottering clay.

But I forbid my sorrows now,
Nor dares the flesh complain;
Diseases bring their profit too;
The joy o'ercomes the pain.

My cheerful soul now all the day
Sits waiting here and sings;
Looks through the ruins of her clay,
And practises her wings.

Faith almost changes into sight,

While from afar she spies

Her fair inheritance, in light,

Above created skies.