He shed a thousand blessings round He spoke, and at the sovereign sound Thus while, with unambitious strife, In the full choir a broken string Seraph and saint, with drooping wings, Then all at once to living strains They summon every chord, Break up the tomb, and burst his chains, And show their rising Lord. Around the flaming army throngs And triumph in their eyes. In awful state the conquering God While tuneful angels sound abroad Now let me rise, and join their song, And be an angel too; My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue, Here's joyful work for you. I would begin the music here, Oh! for some heavenly notes to bear There, ye that love my Saviour, sit, There I would fain have place, Amongst your thrones, or at your feet, So I might see his face. I am confin'd to earth no more, And sing the Man I love. FIRE, AIR, EARTH, AND SEA, PRAISE YE THE LORD. EARTH, thou great footstool of our God, Our house, our parent, and our nurse; Fire, thou swift herald of his face, Levels a palace with the sand, Blending the lofty spires in ruin with the base; Bright arrows that his sounding quivers bear Lightnings, adore the sovereign arm that flings His vengeance, and your fires, upon the heads of kings. Thou vital element, the air, Whose boundless magazines of breath Our fainting flame of life repair, And save the bubble, man, from the cold arms of death; And ye, whose vital moisture yields Life's purple stream a fresh supply, Sweet waters, wand'ring through the flowery fields, Or dropping from the sky; Confess the Power whose all-sufficient name Nor needs your aid to build, or to support our frame. Now the rude air, with noisy force, They join to make our lives a prey, And sweep the sailors' hopes away Vain hopes, to reach their kindred on the shores! Lo, the wild seas and surging waves Gape hideous in a thousand graves: Be still, ye floods, and know your bounds of sand, Ye storms, adore your Master's hand; The winds are in his fist, the waves at his command From the eternal emptiness His fruitful word, by secret springs, Drew the whole harmony of things Old Nothing knew his powerful hand: Fire, air, and earth, and sea heard the creating call, And leap'd from empty nothing to this beauteous all; And still they dance, and still obey The orders they receiv'd the great creation-day. THE FAREWELL. DEAD be my heart to all below, Here I renounce my carnal taste All earthly joys are overweigh'd |