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Poems, moral and descriptive

By the late Richard Jago ... (Prepared for the press, and improved by the author, before his death.) To which is added, some account of the life and writings of Mr. Jago

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MORNING HYMN.
  
  
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248

MORNING HYMN.

“These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good,
“Almighty! Thine this universal frame!
“Thus wond'rous fair! Thyself how wond'rous then!
“Unspeakable! who sit'st above these heav'ns,
“To us invisible; or dimly seen
“In these Thy lowest works: yet these declare
“Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine.
“Speak ye, who best can tell, ye sons of light!
“Angels, for ye behold Him, and, with songs,
“And choral symphonies day without night,
“Circle His throne rejoicing; ye in heav'n,
“On earth join all ye creatures to extol
“Him first, Him last, Him midst, and without end.
“Fairest of Stars, last in the train of night,
“If better thou belong not to the dawn,
“Sure pledge of day! that crown'st the smiling morn
“With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphere,
“While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
“Thou Sun, both eye, and soul of this great world!
“Acknowledge Him thy greater, sound His praise

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“In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,
“And when high noon hast gain'd, and when hast fall'n.
“Moon! that now meet'st the orient Sun, now fly'st
“With the fixt stars, fixt in their orb that flies,
“And ye five other wand'ring fires, that move
“In mystic dance, not without song, resound
“His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
“Air! and ye Elements, the eldest birth
“Of Nature's womb, that, in quaternion, run
“Perpetual circle multiform, and mix,
“And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change
“Vary to your great Maker still new praise.
“Ye Mists, and Exhalations that now rise,
“From hill, or steaming lake, dusky, or grey,
“Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
“In honour to the world's great Maker rise,
“Whether to deck with clouds th'uncolour'd sky,
“Or wet the thirsty earth with falling show'rs,
“Rising, or falling still advance His praise.

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“His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow,
“Breathe soft, or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines,
“With ev'ry plant, in sign of honour wave.
“Fountains! and ye that warble, as ye flow,
“Melodious murmurs, warbling tune His praise.
“Join voices, all ye living souls! ye birds!
“That singing, up to Heav'n's bright gates ascend,
“Bear on your wings, and in your notes His praise.
“Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
“The earth; and stately tread, or lowly creep,
“Witness if I be silent morn, or ev'n,
“To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade
“Made vocal by my song, and taught His praise.
“Hail, universal Lord! be bounteous still
“To give us only good; and, if the night
“Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd,
“Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.”