Blush, Calumny! and write upon his tomb, If honest Eulogy can spare thee room,
Thy deep repentance of thy thousand lies, Which, aim'd at him, have pierc'd th' offended skies! And say, Blot out my sin, confess'd, deplor'd, Against thine image, in thy saint, O Lord!
THE GLORY OF GOD.
WE see, with rapt'rous joy, the sun, And own its Maker's pow'r; And when its daily course is run, His glory still adore:
For then His countless worlds, on high, The glittering Heaven deck; What myriads praise Him in the sky On each resplendent speck!
Great, wond'rous, empyreal King! We on thy glories gaze, Whilst earth, and all her fulness, sing, Unceasingly, thy praise.
O may I never cease my part
In that grand song to bear; But, grateful, tune my ravish'd heart When day or night appear.
THOU didst, O mighty God! exist
Ere time began its race;
Before the ample elements Fill'd up the void of space :
Before the pond'rous earthly globe In fluid air was stay'd,
Before the ocean's mighty springs Their liquid stores display'd;
Ere through the gloom of ancient night The streaks of light appear'd; Before the high celestial arch, Or starry poles were rear'd: Before the loud melodious spheres Their tuneful round begun ; Before the shining roads of heav'n Were measur❜d by the sun : Ere through the empyrean courts One hallelujah rung;
Or to their harps the sons of light Ecstatic anthems sung:
Ere men ador'd, or angels knew, Or prais'd thy wond'rous name; Thy bliss, O sacred spring of life! Thy glory, was the same.
And when the pillars of the world With sudden ruin break,
And all this vast and goodly frame Sinks in the mighty wreck;
When from her orb the moon shall start, Th' astonish'd sun roll back, And all the trembling starry lamps
Their ancient course forsake;
For ever permanent and fix'd,
From agitation free,
Unchang'd in everlasting years, Shall thy existence be.
THE festal Morn, my God, is come, That calls me to thy honour'd Dome Thy presence to adore :
My feet the summons shall attend, With willing steps thy Courts ascend, And tread the hallow'd floor.
Ev'n now to our transported eyes Fair Sion's tow'rs in prospect rise; Within her gates we stand, And, lost in wonder and delight, Behold her happy Sons unite In friendship's firmest band.
Hither from Judah's utmost end The Heav'n-protected Tribes ascend; Their off'rings hither bring:
Here, eager to attest their joy,
In hymns of praise their tongues employ, And hail th' immortal King.
By his Command impell'd, to Her Contending Crowds their cause refer ; While Princes, from her Throne, With equal doom, th' unerring Law Dispense, who boast their birth to draw From Jesse's favour'd Son.
Be Peace by Each implor'd on thee, O Salem, while with bended knee To Jacob's God we pray;
How blest, who calls himself thy Friend! Success his labour shall attend,
And safety guard his way.
O may'st thou, free from hostile fear, Nor the loud voice of tumult hear,
Nor war's wild wastes deplore: May plenty nigh thee take her stand, And in thy courts with lavish hand Distribute all her store.
Seat of my Friends and Brethren, hail! How can my tongue, O Salem, fail To bless thy lov❜d abode ?
How cease the zeal that in me glows Thy good to seek, whose walls inclose The mansion of my God?
BEHOLD! the mountain of the Lord In latter days shall rise,
Above the mountains and the hills, And draw the wond'ring eyes.
To this the joyful nation round, All tribes and tongues, shall flow; Up to the hill of God, they'll say, And to his house we'll go.
The beam that shines on Zion Hill Shall lighten ev'ry land;
The King who reigns in Zion Towers Shall all the world command.
No strife shall vex Messiah's reign Or mar the peaceful years,
To ploughshares soon they beat their swords, To pruning-hooks their spears.
No longer hosts encount'ring hosts, Their millions slain deplore;
They hang the trumpet in the hall, And study war no more.
Come then-O come from ev'ry land,
To worship at his shrine; And, walking in the light of God, With holy beauties shine.
PATRIOTS have toil'd, and in their country's cause Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve,
Receive proud recompense.
Their names to the sweet lyre. Th' historic muse, Proud of the treasure, marches with it down To latest times; and Sculpture, in her turn, Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass To guard them, and t' immortalize her trust. But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid, To those, who, posted at the shrine of Truth, Have fall'n in her defence. A patriot's blood, Well spent in such a strife, may earn indeed, And for a time ensure, to his lov'd land The sweets of liberty and equal laws; But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize, And win it with more pain.
In confirmation of the noblest claim, Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, To walk with God, to be divinely free, To soar, and to anticipate the skies.
Yet few remember them. They liv'd unknown, Till Persecution dragg'd them into fame,
And chas'd them up to Heav'n. Their ashes flew -No marble tells us whither. With their names No bard embalms and sanctifies his song: And history, so warm on meaner themes, Is cold on this. She execrates indeed
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