Ye angels, catch the thrilling sound!
While all th' adoring thrones around
His boundless mercy sing:
Let ev'ry list'ning saint above
Wake all the tuneful soul of love,
And touch the sweetest string.
Join, ye loud spheres, the vocal choir;
Thou dazzling orb of liquid fire,
The mighty chorus aid:
Soon as grey ev'ning gilds the plain,
Thou, moon, protract the melting strain,
And praise him in the shade.
Thou heav'n of heav'ns, his vast abode, Ye clouds, proclaim your forming God,
Who call'd yon worlds from night: "Ye shades, dispel!"-th' Eternal said: At once th' involving darkness fled, And nature sprung to light.
Whate'er a blooming world contains,
That wings the air, that skims the plains,
United praise bestow:
Ye dragons, sound his awful name
To heav'n aloud: and roar acclaim,
Ye swelling deeps below:
Let every element rejoice:
Ye thunders, burst with awful voice
To him who bids you roll;
His praise in softer notes declare,
Each whispering breeze of yielding air,
And breathe it to the soul.
To him, ye graceful cedars, bow;
Ye tow'ring mountains, bending low,
Your great Creator own;
Tell, when affrighted nature shook,
How Sinai kindled at his look,
And trembled at his frown.
Ye flocks that haunt the humble vale,
Ye insects flutt'ring on the gale,
In mutual concourse rise;
Crop the gay rose's vermeil bloom,
And waft its spoils, a sweet perfume,
In incense to the skies.
Wake, all ye mounting tribes, and sing;
Ye plumy warblers of the spring,
Harmonious anthems raise
To him who shap'd your finer mould,
Who tipp'd your glitt'ring wings with gold,
And tun'd your voice to praise.
Let man, by nobler passions sway'd,
The feeling heart, the judging head,
In heav'nly praise employ ;
Spread his tremendous name around:
Till heav'n's broad arch rings back the sound,
The gen'ral burst of joy.
Ye whom the charms of grandeur please,
Nurs'd on the downy lap of ease,
Fall prostrate at his throne:
Ye princes, rulers, all adore;
Praise him, ye kings, who makes your pow'r An image of his own.
Ye fair, by nature form'd to move,
O praise th' eternal Source of love,
With youth's enlivening fire:
Let age take up the tuneful lay,
Sigh his bless'd name-
Be Thou my Light, be Thou my Way.
THOU, to whose all-searching sight
The darkness shineth as the light,
Search, prove my heart; it pants for Thee:
O burst these bands, and set it free.
Wash out its stains, refine its dross,
Nail my affections to the cross!
Hallow each thought, let all within
Be clean, as Thou, my Lord, art clean.
If in this darksome wild I stray,
Be Thou my light, be Thou my way:
No foes, no violence I fear,
No fraud, while Thou, my God, art near.
When rising floods my soul o'erflow,
When sinks my heart in waves of woe,
Jesu, Thy timely aid impart,
And raise my head and cheer
Saviour, where'er Thy steps I see,
Dauntless, untir'd I follow Thee;
O let Thy hand support me still,
And lead me to Thy holy hill.
If rough and thorny be the way,
My strength proportion to my day:
'Till toil, and grief, and pain shall cease,
Where all is calm, and joy, and peace.
JOHN WESLEY.
Bright Pledge of Peace and Sunshine !
STILL young and fine! but what is still in view
We slight as old and soiled, though fresh
and new:
How bright wert thou when Shem's admiring eye
Thy burning flaming arch did first descry;
When Nahor, Terah, Haran, Abram, Lot,
The youthful world's gray fathers in one knot,
Did with intentive looks watch every hour
For thy new light, and trembled at each shower.
When thou dost shine darkness looks white and
fair,
Forms turn to music, clouds to smiles and air;
Rain gently spends his honey drops, and pours
Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers.
Bright pledge of peace and sunshine! the sure
tie
Of thy Lord's hand, the object of his eye!
When I behold thee, though my light be dim,
Distant and low, I can in thine see Him,
Who looks upon thee from his glorious throne,
And minds the covenant betwixt all and one.
HENRY VAUGHAN.
Both Worlds at once they View.
HE seas are quiet when the winds are o'er;
So calm are we when passions are no more!
For then we know how vain it was to boast
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.
Clouds of affection from our younger eyes
Conceal that emptiness which age descries:
The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new lights thro' chinks that time has made.
Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become,
As they draw near to their eternal home;
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view,
That stand upon the threshold of the new.
NOT all the pomp and pageantry of worlds
Reflect such glory on the eye supreme,
As the meek virtues of one holy man :
For ever doth his Angel, from the face
Divine, beatitude and wisdom draw:
And in his prayer, what privilege adored!—
Mounting the heavens and claiming audience
Yes! there, amid a high immortal host
Of seraphs hymning in eternal choir,
A lip of clay its orisons can send,
In temple or in solitude outbreathed.
ROBERT MONTGOMERY.
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