University of Virginia Library

GUNPOWDER TREASON.

“We adore the wisdom and justice of thy Providence, who so timely interposed in our extreme danger, and disappointed all the designs of our enemies.” Prayer Book.

Two Wills alone may cause our world to move,
Finite below, or Infinite above;
And all which reason and religion say
Points to the question,—“which should lead the way?”
Science the first, but Faith her God will call
Alpha of each, and Omega of all.
God is in history! an almighty Soul,
A secret Energy, divine Control,
Will of all wills, yet leaving manhood free,
Binding our time with His eternity:
No chance can reign, till His dread promise dies,
And orphan'd Earth for vanish'd mercy cries.
God rules in history! read by this deep plan
Gone ages harmonise their truths for Man;
While he, unconscious of those secret laws
Which link the second with a Primal Cause,
Obeys each bias, acts his perfect will,
And yet leaves God supreme in purpose still.
So grant us, Lord, a providence to trace
Directing all things for Thy chosen race;
Kingdoms and kings, the palace and the cot,
Insect, or seraph,—none can be forgot;
For in the hollow of Thy hand repose
Atoms, and worlds; o'er each Thy goodness flows.
And well, on this day, doth our Church decree
Anthems of love, which heave our hearts to Thee,
Celestial Watcher! Whose soul-reading eye
Did from yon heavens the miscreant-plot descry,
And, by that wisdom saints exult to own,
Forewarn'd the Empire, and preserved a throne.
Ripe was the plan; each purpose deeply laid,
And Treason gloated o'er a Church betray'd;
A helpless Victim, soon to be destroy'd
Look'd Freedom then, to faction overjoy'd;
Sworn was the oath, the sacrament was taken,—
But England was not by her God forsaken!

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Praise to the Lord! let choral harpers sound;
Praise to the Lord! yet saints repeat around,
The Angel of Whose presence then was nigh
And bared foul Treason to the open sky,
Blasted her guile, and by protective charms
Shielded our Throne, and saved the Church from harms.
And mix'd with praise, let some remorseful prayer
The darksome burden of our guilt declare;
For what but mercies can outnumber sin?—
Whiten our hearts, atoning Blood! within;
Till, hallow'd by celestial truth, we raise
That living hymn where Life becomes a praise.