Asking Leave to Sing.
I
Yet, mighty God, indulge my tongue,
Nor let thy thunders roar,
Whilst the young notes and vent'rous song
To worlds of glory soar.
II
If thou my darling flight forbid
The muse folds up her wings;
Or at thy word her slender reed
Attempts almighty things.
III
Her slender reed inspir'd by thee
Bids a new Eden grow,
With blooming life on every tree,
And spreads a heav'n below.
IV
She mocks the trumpet's loud alarms
Fill'd with thy dreadful breath;
And calls th'angelic hosts to arms,
To give the nations death.
V
But when she tastes her Saviour's love,
And feels the rapture strong,
Scarce the divinest harp above
Aims at a sweeter song.
