Imatges de pÓgina
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His praise let ocean thro' her realms display,
For as her circling billows can convey !
His praise, ye misty vapours, wide diffuse,
In rains descending, or in milder dews;
His praises whisper, ye majestic trees,
As your tops rustle to the vocal breeze!
His praise around, ye flow'ry tribes exhale,
Far as your sweets embalm the spicy gale!
His praise ye dimpled streams, to earth reveal,
As pleas'd ye murmur thro' the flow'ry vale.
His praise ye feather'd choirs distinguish'd fing,
As to your notes the tuneful forests ring!
His praise proclaim, ye monsters of the deep,
Who in the vast abyss your revels keep!
Or ye fair natives of our earthly scene,
Who range the wilds, or haunt the pasture green!
Nor thou, vain lord of earth, with careless ear,
The universal hymn of worship hear!
But ardent in the sacred chorus join,
Thy soul transported with the tak divine !
While by his works th' Almighty is confess’d,
Supremely glorious, and supremely bless’d!
Great Lord of life! from whom this humble frame
Derives the pow'r to sing thy holy name,
Forgive the lowly muse, whose artless lay
Has dar'd thy facred attributes survey !
Delighted oft thro' nature's beauteous field,
Has the ador'd thy Wifdom bright reveal'd;


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Oft have her wishes aim’d the secret song,
But awful rev’rence still with-held her tongue:
Yet as thy bounty lent the reas'ning beam,
As feels


conscious breast thy yital flame,
So, blest Creator, let thy servant pay
His mite of gratitude this feeble way,
Thy Goodness own, thy Providence adore,
He yields thee only-what was thine before!

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HESE are thy glorious works, parent of good,

Almighty, thine this univerfal frame, Thus wondrous fair ; thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who fitt'ft above these heav'ns, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine. Speak ye who best can tell, ye fons of light, Angels; for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in heav'n, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midit, and without end. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown't the smiling morn With thy bright circiet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou fun, of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater : found his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'it, And when high noon haft gain'd, and when thou fall'it. Moon, that now meet'it the orient sun, now fly'st

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With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies;
And ye five other wand'ring fires that move
In mystic dance not without song, resound
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air, and ye elements, the eldeft birth
Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle, multiform ; and mix,
And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Ye mifts and exhalations that now rise
From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray,
Till the fun paint your fleecy kirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author rise,
Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,
Rising or falling still advance his praise.
His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow,
Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines,
With every plant, in fign of worship wave.
Fountains, and ye, that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise,
Join voices all ye living fouls ; ye birds,
That singing up to heaven-gate ascend,
Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Ye that in waters glide, and ye

that walk
The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep;
Witness if I be filent, morn or even,


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To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade,
Made vocal by my song, and taught his praisc.
Hail universal Lord, be bounteous still

To give us only good; and if the night
Have gather'd ought of evil, or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.


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