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There the dear Man my Saviour sits,
The God, how bright he shines ! And scatters infinite delights
On all the happy minds.
Seraphs with elevated strains
Circle the throne around, And move and charm the starry plains
With an immortal sound.
Jesus, the Lord, their harps employs,
Jesus, my love, they sing, Jesus, the name of both our joys,
Sounds sweet from every string.
Hark ! how beyond the narrow bounds
Of time and space they run,
The Godhead of the Son :
How on the Father's breast he lay,
The darling of his soul, Infinite years before the day
Or heavens began to roll.
And now they sink the lofty tune,
And gentler notes they play, And bring the eternal Godhead down,
To dwell in humble clay.
O sacred beauties of the Man !
(The God resides within) His flesh all pure, without a stain,
His soul without a sin.'
Then, how he look'd, and how he smil'd,
What wondrous things he said ! Sweet cherubs, stay, dwell here a while, And tell what Jesus did.
At his command the blind awake,
And feel the gladsome rays;
He shed a thousand blessings round
Where'er he turn'd his eye ;
The hellish legions fly.
Thus while with unambitious strife
The' ethereal minstrels rove, Through all the labours of his life,
And wonders of his love;
In the full choir a broken string
Groans with a strange surprise ;
That bleeds, and loves, and dies.
Seraph and saint, with drooping wings,
Cease their harmonious breath ; No blooming trees, nor bubbling springs,
While Jesus sleeps in death.
Then all at once to living strains
They summon every chord, Break the tomb, and burst his chains,
And show their rising Lord.
Around the flaming army throngs
To guard him to the skies, With loud Hosannas on their tongues,
And triumph in their eyes.
In awful state the conquering God
Ascends his shining throne, While tuneful angels sound abroad
The victories he has won.
Now let me rise, and join their song,
And be an angel too; My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
Here's joyful work for you.
I would begin the music here,
And so my soul should rise :
My spirit to the skies!
There, ye that love my Saviour, sit,
There I would fain have place Amongst your thrones, or at your feet,
So I might see his face.
I am confin'd to earth no more.
But mount in haste above, To bless the God that I adore,
And sing the Man I love.
FIRE, AIR, EARTH, AND SEA,
PRAISE YE THE LORD.
EARTH, thou great footstool of our God
Mighty stage of mortal scenes,
Hung with golden lamps around;
Thou bulky globe, prodigious mass, That hangs unpillar'd in an empty space : While thy unwieldy weight rests on the feeble air, Bless that Almighty Word that fix'd and holds thee
Fire, thou swift herald of his face,
Levels a palace with the sand,
Ye heavenly flames, that singe the air,
Artillery of a jealous God;
To scatter deaths abroad ;
kings. VOL. XXIII.
Thou vital element, the air,
Our fainting flame of life repair, [death : And save the bubble man from the cold arms of And ye, whose vital moisture yields
Life's purple stream a fresh supply; Sweet waters, wandering through the flowery fields,
Or dropping from the sky; Confess the Power whose all-sufficient name Nor needs your aid to build, or to support our frame.
Now the rude air, with noisy force,
And sweep the sailor's hopes away,
Lo, the wild seas and surging waves,
Gape hideous in a thousand graves : Be still, ye floods, and know your bounds of sand, Ye storms, adore your Master's hand ; The winds are in his fist, the waves at his command.
From the eternal emptiness
Scarce had he spoke his full command,
And still they dance, and still obey The orders they receiv'd the great Creation-day.