The Benedicite Paraphrased.
By the Rev. Mr. Merrick.
I
Ye works of God, on him alone,
In earth his footstool, heaven his throne,
Be all your praise bestow'd;
Whose hand the beauteous fabrick made,
Whose eye the finish'd work survey'd,
And saw that all was good.
II
Ye angels, that with loud acclaim
Admiring view'd the new-born frame,
And hail'd th'eternal King;
Again proclaim your Maker's praise,
Again your thankful voices raise,
And touch the tuneful string.
III
Praise him, ye bless'd ætherial plains,
Where, in full majesty, he deigns
To fix his aweful throne:
Ye waters, that above him roll,
From orb to orb, from pole to pole,
Oh! make his praises known!
IV
Ye thrones, dominions, virtues, pow'rs,
Join ye your joyful songs with ours,
With us your voices raise;
From age to age extend the lay,
To heav'n's eternal Monarch pay
Hymns of eternal praise.
V
Cœlestial orb!—whose pow'rful ray
Opes the glad eyelids of the day,
Whose influence all things own;
Praise him, whose courts effulgent shine
With light, as far excelling thine,
As thine the paler moon.
VI
Ye glitt'ring planets of the sky,
Whose lamps the absent sun supply,
With him the song pursue;
And let himself submissive own,
He borrows from a brighter Sun,
The light he lends to you.
VII
Ye show'rs, and dews, whose moisture shed,
Calls into life the op'ning seed,
To him your praises yield;
Whose influence wakes the genial birth,
Drops fatness on the pregnant earth,
And crowns the laughing field.
VIII
Ye winds that oft tempestuous sweep
The ruffled surface of the deep,
With us confess your God;
See, thro' the heav'ns, the King of kings,
Up-borne on your expanded wings,
Come flying all abroad.
IX
Ye floods of fire, where-e'er ye flow,
With just submission humbly bow
To his superior pow'r;
Who stops the tempest on its way,
Or bids the flaming deluge stray,
And gives it strength to roar.
X
Ye summer's heat, and winter's cold,
By turns in long succession roll'd,
The drooping world to chear;
Praise him, who gave the sun and moon,
To lead the various seasons on,
And guide the circling year.
XI
Ye frosts, that bind the wat'ry plain,
Ye silent show'rs of fleecy rain,
Pursue the heav'nly theme:
Praise him who sheds the driving snow,
Forbids the harden'd waves to flow,
And stops the rapid stream.
XII
Ye days and nights, that swiftly born,
From morn to eve, from eve to morn,
Alternate glide away;
Praise him, whose never-varying light,
Absent, adds horror to the night,
But present gives the day.
XIII
Light,—from whose rays all beauty springs,
Darkness,—whose wide-expanded wings
Involve the dusky globe:
Praise him, who, when the heav'ns he spread,
Darkness his thick pavilion made,
And light his regal robe.
XIV
Praise him, ye light'nings, as ye fly,
Wing'd with his vengeance thro' the sky,
And red with wrath divine;
Praise him, ye clouds, that wand'ring stray,
Or fix'd by him in close array,
Surround his aweful shrine.
XV
Exalt, O earth! thy heav'nly King,
Who bids the plants, that form the spring,
With annual verdure bloom;
Whose frequent drops of kindly rain,
Prolific swell the rip'ning grain,
And bless thy fertile womb.
XVI
Ye mountains, that ambitious rise,
And heave your summits to the skies,
Revere his aweful nod;
Think how you once affrighted fled,
When Jordan sought his fountain-head,
And own'd th'approaching God.
XVII
Ye trees, that fill the rural scene,
Ye flowers, that o'er th'enamel'd green
In native beauty reign,
O! praise the Ruler of the skies,
Whose hand the genial sap supplies,
And clothes the smiling plain.
XVIII
Ye secret springs, ye gentle rills,
That murm'ring rise among the hills,
Or fill the humble vale;
Praise him, at whose almighty nod
The rugged rock dissolving flow'd,
And form'd a springing well.
XIX
Praise him, ye floods, and seas profound,
Whose waves the spacious earth surround,
And roll from shore to shore;
Aw'd by his voice, ye seas, subside,
Ye floods, within your channels glide,
And tremble and adore.
XX
Ye whales, that stir the boiling deep,
Or in its dark recesses sleep,
Remote from human eye;
Praise him, by whom ye all are fed,
Praise him, without whose heavenly aid
Ye languish, faint, and die.
XXI
Ye birds, exalt your Maker's name,
Begin, and with th'important theme
Your artless lays improve;
Wake with your songs the rising day,
Let musick sound on ev'ry spray,
And fill the vocal grove.
XXII
Praise him, ye beasts, that nightly roam
Amid the solitary gloom,
Th'expected prey to seize;
Ye slaves of the laborious plough,
Your stubborn necks submissive bow,
And bend your weary'd knees.
XXIII
Ye sons of men, his praise display,
Who stampt his image on your clay,
And gave it pow'r to move;
Yet that in Judah's confines dwell,
From age to age successive tell
The wonders of his love.
XXIV
Let Levi's tribe the lay prolong,
'Till angels listen to the song,
And bend attentive down;
Let wonder seize the heav'nly train,
Pleas'd, while they hear a mortal strain,
So sweet, so like their own.
XXV
And you, your thankful voices join,
That oft at Salem's sacred shrine
Before his altars kneel;
Where thron'd in majesty he dwells,
And from the mystick cloud reveals
The dictates of his will.
XXVI
Ye spirits of the just and good,
That, eager for the blest abode,
To heav'nly mansions soar;
O! let your songs his praise display,
'Till heav'n itself shall melt away,
And time shall be no more.
XXVII
Praise him, ye meek and humble train,
Ye saints, whom his decrees ordain
The boundless bliss to share;
O! praise him, 'till ye take your way
To regions of eternal day,
And reign for ever there.
XXVIII
Let us, what now impassive stand,
Aw'd by the tyrant's stern command,
Amid the fiery blaze;
While thus we triumph in the flame,
Rise, and our Maker's love proclaim,
In hymns of endless praise.
