2 Father of Life! whofe Bounties flow,
far as the Worlds they blefs;
Those various Gifts diffus'd below,
thy fov'reign Pow'r confefs.
HYMN CCXXXVIII.
IRISE, glorious Sun of Righteousness, with Healing in thy Wings:
My Soul with Light celeftial bless,
...and holy Comfort bring!
2 Bleffing, and Honour, Glory, Pow'r,
to him that reigns above;
And to the Lamb forevermore,
be Glory, Praife and Love.
ETERNITY! thou pleafing, dreadful,
Through what new Scenes and Changes
The wide, th' unbounded Profpect lies be
fore us But Shadows, Clouds, and Darkness, rest
upon it. Here will I hold: If there's a Pow rabove us, And that there is, all Nature cries ́aloud
Through all her Works, he must delight in
Virtue;
And that which he delights in muft be happy.
THE cloud-cap'd Towers, the gorgeous
Palaces,
The folemn Temples, the great Globe itfelf,
Yea, all which it inherits fhall diffolve,
And, like the baseless Fabric of a Vision,
Leave not a Wreck behind.
YE Works of God, on him alone,
In Earth his Footftool, Heav'n his Throne,
Be all your Praise bestow'd;
Whofe Hand the beauteous Fabric made,
Whofe Eye the finish'd Work furvey'd,
And faw that all was good.
2 Ye Angels, that, with loud Acclaim,
Admiring view'd the new-born Frame,
And hail'd th' eternal King,
Again proclaim your Maker's Praife,
Again your thankful Voices raise,
And touch the tuneful String.
3 Praife him, ye biels'd ætherial Plains,
Where, in full Majefty, he deigns
To fix his awful Throne:
Ye Waters that above him roll,
From Orb to Orb, from Pole to Pole,
O make his Praises known!
4 Ye Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Pow'rs,
Join ye your joyful Songs with ours,
With us your Voices raife;
From Age to Age extend the Lay,
To Heav'n's eternal Monarch pay
Hymns of eternal Praise.
5 Celestial Orb! whofe pow'rful Ray
Opes the glad Eyelids of the Day,
Whose Influence all Things own;
Praise him, whole Courts effulgent shine
With Light, as far excelling thine,
As thine the paler Moon.
6 Ye glitt'ring Planets of the Sky,
Whose Lamps the abfent Sun supply,
With him the Song purfue;.
And let himself fubmiffive own,
He borrows from a brighter Sun,
The Light he lends to you.
7 Ye Show'rs and Dews, whofe Moisture, thed, Calls into Life the op'ning Seed,
To him your Praites yield,
Whose Influence wakes the genial Birth,
Drops Fatnefs on the pregnant Earth,
And crowns the laughing Field,
8 Ye Winds, that oft tempeftuous sweep
The ruffled Surface of the Deep,
With us confefs your God;
See, thro' the Heav'ns, the King of Kings,
Up born on your expanded Wings,
Comes flying all abroad.
9 Ye Floods of Fire, where e'er ye flow,
With juft Submiffion, humbly bow
To his fuperior Pow'r,
Who ftops the Tempeft on it's Way,
Or bids the flaming Deluge ftay,
And gives it Strength to roar.
roye Summer's Heat, and Winter's Cold,
By Turns in long Succeffion roll'd,
The drooping World to cheer;
Praise him who gave the Sun and Moon,
To lead the various Seafons on,
And guide the circling Year.
II Ye Frofts, that bind the wat'ry Plain,
Ye filent Show'rs of fleecy Rain,
Pursue the heav'nly Theme;
Praise him who sheds the driving Snow,
Forbids the harden'd Waves to flow,
And stops the rapid Stream.
12 Ye Days and Nights, that fwiftly borne,
From Morn to Eve from Eve to Morn,
Alternate glide away,
Praife him whofe never-varying Light,
Abfent, adds Horror to the Night,
But, prefent, gives the Day.
3 Light, from whofe Rays all Beauty fprings, Darknefs,-whofe wide-expanded Wings Involve the dufky Globe,
Praife him, who, when the Heav'ns he spread,
Darkness his thick Pavilion made,
And Light his regal Robe.
14 Praise him, ye Lightnings, as ye fly,
Wing'd with his Vengeance, thro' the Sky,
And red with Wrath divine:
Praise him, ye Clouds, that wand'ring ftray,
Or, fix'd by him in close Array,
Surround his awful Shrine.
15 Exalt, O Earth! thy heav'nly King,
Who bids the Plants, that form the Spring,
With annual Verdure bloom ;
Whose frequent Drops of kindly Rain,
Prolific, fwell the rip'ning Grain
And bless thy fertile Womb.
16 Ye Mountains, that ambitious rife,
And heave your Summits to the Skies,
Revere his awful Nod;
Think how ye once affrighted fled,
When Jordan fought his Fountain-Head,
And own'd th' approaching God.
Ye Trees, that fill the rural Scene,
Ye Flow'rs, that, o'er th' enamell'd Green,
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