With glaring colors, and false light; But bring the nauseous daubing nigh, Look up, my soul, pant toward the eternal hills; Those heavens are fairer than they seem; There pleasures all sincere glide on in crystal rills, There not a dreg of guilt defiles, Nor grief disturbs the stream. That Canaan knows no noxious thing, No cursed soil, no tainted spring, Nor roses grow on thorns, nor honey wears a sting. FELICITY ABOVE. No, 'tis in vain to seek for bliss ; For bliss can ne'er be found Till we arrive where Jesus is, And tread on heavenly ground. There's nothing round these painted skies, Nothing, my soul, that's worth thy joys, 'Tis heaven on earth to taste his love, To feel his quickening grace; And all the heaven I hope above Is but to see his face. Why move my years in slow delay? Let the spheres cleave, and mark my way Dear Sovereign, break these vital strings Take me, Uriel, on thy wings, And stretch and soar away. GOD'S DOMINION AND DECREES. KEEP silence, all created things, And wait your Maker's nod: The muse stands trembling while she sings The honours of her God. Life, death, and hell, and worlds unknown, Hang on his firm decree: He sits on no precarious throne, Nor borrows leave to be. The almighty voice bid ancient Night Her endless realms resign, And lo, ten thousand globes of light In fields of azure shine. Now wisdom, with superior sway, He spake the sun obedient stood, Lord of the armies of the sky, Chain'd to his throne a volume lies, His providence unfolds the book, And makes his counsels shine; Each opening leaf, and every stroke, Here he exalts neglected worms Anon the following page he turns, Not Gabriel asks the reason why, My God, I never long'd to see In thy fair book of life and grace SELF-CONSECRATION. Ir grieves me, Lord, it grieves me sore, That I have liv'd to thee no more, And wasted half my days; My inward powers shall burn and flame, With zeal and passion for thy name; I would not speak, but for my God, nor move, but to his praise. What are my eyes but aids to see Inscrib'd with beams of light On flowers and stars? Lord, I behold The shining azure, green, and gold; But when I try to read thy name, a dimness veils my sight. Mine ears are rais'd when Virgil sings And drink the music in ; Why should the trumpet's brazen voice, Or oaten reed, awake my joys, And yet my heart so stupid lie when sacred hymns begin? Change me, O God; my flesh shall be And thou the notes inspire; My tongue shall keep the heavenly chime, And sweet variety of sound shall in thy praise conspire. The dearest nerve about my heart, Should it refuse to bear a part |