GLORY to Thee, who graced his brow

With reason's crown so true; And formed his lips to overflow

With eloquence and dew:

Those lips' best use, to speak Thy praise designed; That reason's noblest act, her Author, Thee, to find.

GLORY to Thee, whose aids most nigh

In life's sad hour of close,

The sunshine of the soul supply

With peaceful, soft repose:

That inward calm, when all to sense is dead,

The drooping spirit may cheer,and heavenlycomfort shed.

GLORY to Thee, whose arm hath wrought

The conquest of the Grave;

And frailest flesh unmoved hath taught

His mortal dint to brave:

Now in his palsied gripe no strength is left,

And harmless wounds the sting, whose poison Thou hast

GLORY to Thee, whose promise wings

The parting of the breath;

And tempers sweet from living springs

The bitterness of death:

For, taught by Thee, to live was death before,

[reft.

And death we know is life, and life is death no more.

GLORY to Thee, whose hand reveals

The purpose of Thy will;

And bares the effect of power, but seals

The wondrous action still :

For pathless are Thy ways; and all unknown,
Thou dwellest in thickest dark, light to Thyself alone.

GLORY to Thee, who didst not spare

Thy dear and only Son,

When first for man his tender care

The work of love begun :

Stript of the God, and from Thy bosom sent,
To tabernacle meek with flesh and blood content.

GLORY to Thee, whose Spirit still,

A condescending guest, Disdains not with the lowly will,

And the pure heart to rest:

Their hallowed lives, and temper's altered frame,
The living temples meet of heaven's own God proclaim.

GLORY to Thee, who gavest to man

The rainbow's wondrous light,

The compass of the sky to span,

Majestical and bright:

Thine hands that beauteous arch of glory wrought,

And placed it in the clouds, with truth and mercy fraught.

GLORY to Thee, who makest the year,

Through varying seasons borne,

In order due to disappear,

In order due return:

Perpetual circle, whose quaternion round

With providence, and joy, and goodness, still is crowned.

GLORY to Thee, when winter's cold,

With snow-white mantle hoar,

Envelopes in their secret hold

All nature's embryon store:

Deep in their cells immured, the saps of life

His frozen touch evade, and save their juices rife.

GLORY to Thee, when tender spring
Emerges from the tomb,

O'er dell and dale abroad to fling

The firstborn of her womb:

And paint with liveliest green the russet mead,
And o'er the furrowed ridge the dancing corn-blade lead.

GLORY to Thee, when summer's sun,

With kindliest touch and warm, Matures the pledge of hope begun,

And loads the teeming farm:

And stocks the orchard's pale with fruits confest,
And decks the gay parterre with flower-embroidered vest.

GLORY to Thee, when harvest-home
Redeems the promised due;

And gathered stores for months to come
The garner's wealth renew:

And every germ, parturient erst displayed,
Tosevenfold fulness form'd brown autumn's right is made.

GLORY to Thee, whose absent day
Unnumbered lights supply,

When thousand thousand stars array

The forehead of the sky:

Majestically slow, serene and bright,

Each in his course to move, and rule his watch of night.

GLORY to Thee, whose clouds so rare,

Self-buoyant made to swim,

O'ercanopy the middle air

With curtain fringes dim:

Where precious drops are stored, and, as they go,

From milklike veins distil their fatness all below.

GLORY to Thee, who bidst them pour

The first or latter rain;

Nor unproductive give the shower,

Nor back receive in vain:

Earth opes her thirsty mouth, and all around

The barren wastes rejoice, with flowers and verdure

GLORY to Thee, whose dews amain,

On summer's eve serene,

With cooling balms refresh the plain,

And brighten o'er the green:

[crowned.

All night the honied spring its sweets distils,
And slakes a thousand flowers, and feeds a thousand rills.

GLORY to Thee whose evening gray,

With silent soft surprise,

Steals on the parting smile of day,

As slumber on the eyes:

To bring sweet hour of rest, and grateful change; For meditation meet, and thought's expansive range.

GLORY to Thee, who givest the morn

To rise upon the night,

With breath of purest breezes born,

And rosy-purpled light:

When fields rejoice, and birds sweet music make,
And men to learned toil, or needful labour, wake.

GLORY to Thee, who bidst the sun,

In brightness like thine own, Too dazzling to be gazed upon,

Look from his noonday throne:

Faint emblem of thy beams; yet meetest he,
If aught created meet, thine emblem faint to be.

GLORY to Thee, when duly sped,
With renovated might,

He rises from his eastern bed,

And opes the gates of light:

As some gay youthful spouse, for bridals drest;
Or giant, in his strength, with wine and sleep refresht.

GLORY to Thee, when, bright and warm,

His fructifying shower

Renews the potent vital charm,

In nature's genial hour:

Earth fills her pregnant womb, and drinks the tide,

That sweetens all her fruits, and decks her flowers with

GLORY to Thee, who formedst the moon

To bear divided sway,

And temper soft the blaze of noon

To evening's sober ray:

[pride.

With beauty more adorned, and lovelier made; Queen of the peaceful hour, of silence, and of shade.

GLORY to Thee, when, full and clear,

She pours her urn from high,

The pensive spirit meet to cheer,

And bless the feeble eye:

While stars, of kindred pale, athwart are seen,

(More lustrous and more fair,) her silver-trembling

GLORY to Thee, who didst illume

The dark sepulchral damp,

And hang within the silent tomb

Religion's holy lamp:

Unspent to burn, with sacred asbest fed;

[sheen.

While peace and hope prolong the slumbers of the dead.