 | The miscellaneous works (1739) |  |
SOLILOQUY XXXIII.
Blest Jesus! 'tis thy name to which I trust
My noblest interest, my superior hopes;
Thou covert from the storm, a hiding place
From the black tempest of avenging wrath!
I see my guilt, but this augments the debt
Of gratitude and love; I see my guilt,
But see it cancell'd by redeeming blood.
My noblest interest, my superior hopes;
Thou covert from the storm, a hiding place
From the black tempest of avenging wrath!
I see my guilt, but this augments the debt
Of gratitude and love; I see my guilt,
But see it cancell'd by redeeming blood.
Transporting thought! how shall I speak my joy?
In what gay figures paint the ecstasy?
O may'st thou reign exalted and ador'd,
Ador'd on earth as in the highest heav'n!
With all the shouting myriads round thy throne
I join my grateful voice—Ye glitt'ring crowds,
Receive a mortal militant below
To your triumphant choir; with you I'll bless
My great Redeemer's name—transporting name!
'Tis graven on my heart, 'tis deep imprest,
Immortal is the stamp; nor life, nor death,
Nor hell, with all its pow'rs, shall blot it thence.
In what gay figures paint the ecstasy?
O may'st thou reign exalted and ador'd,
Ador'd on earth as in the highest heav'n!
With all the shouting myriads round thy throne
I join my grateful voice—Ye glitt'ring crowds,
Receive a mortal militant below
To your triumphant choir; with you I'll bless
My great Redeemer's name—transporting name!
'Tis graven on my heart, 'tis deep imprest,
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Nor hell, with all its pow'rs, shall blot it thence.
Thou joy of angels, the desire of nations,
The hope, the glorious hope of all mankind!
What shall I speak? what gentle language use,
When thou art my transporting tender theme?
The tongues of angels cannot reach a strain
Too solemn, too pathetic to express
The charming sentiments I feel for thee.
The hope, the glorious hope of all mankind!
What shall I speak? what gentle language use,
When thou art my transporting tender theme?
The tongues of angels cannot reach a strain
Too solemn, too pathetic to express
The charming sentiments I feel for thee.
How dear thou art, how precious to my soul,
'Tis thou alone can'st tell—O fairer far
Than all thy wond'rous works! what excellence
Bears thy similitude? Thy father's image,
The plenitude, the brightness of his glory.
The eloquence of heav'n is far below
Thy worth; for thou art infinite perfection,
The fulness of the godhead dwells in thee.
Thine is the pow'r, the kingdom, and the glory;
All, all is thine in the high heav'ns above,
On earth, and in the deep.—May ev'ry tongue
In blessing thee be blest; may blessings fall
In torrents on their heads that plead thy cause;
Smile on their active piety and zeal,
Strengthen their hands, and fortify their hearts.
With peace divine and holy consolation.
Let them appear bright as the vig'rous sun,
When tow'ring from his clear, meridian height,
He sills the spacious firmament with glory.
'Tis thou alone can'st tell—O fairer far
Than all thy wond'rous works! what excellence
Bears thy similitude? Thy father's image,
The plenitude, the brightness of his glory.
The eloquence of heav'n is far below
Thy worth; for thou art infinite perfection,
The fulness of the godhead dwells in thee.
Thine is the pow'r, the kingdom, and the glory;
All, all is thine in the high heav'ns above,
On earth, and in the deep.—May ev'ry tongue
In blessing thee be blest; may blessings fall
In torrents on their heads that plead thy cause;
Smile on their active piety and zeal,
Strengthen their hands, and fortify their hearts.
With peace divine and holy consolation.
Let them appear bright as the vig'rous sun,
When tow'ring from his clear, meridian height,
He sills the spacious firmament with glory.
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So let them prosper, while thy vanquish'd foes
In humble homage bow beneath thy feet.
In humble homage bow beneath thy feet.
From sea to sea be thy great empire spread,
And let the utmost isles thy glory see:
The eastern kings their incense then shall bring,
And sweet Sabæa's groves shall bloom for thee.
And let the utmost isles thy glory see:
The eastern kings their incense then shall bring,
And sweet Sabæa's groves shall bloom for thee.
| The miscellaneous works (1739) | |