 | The miscellaneous works (1739) |  |
PSALM LXIII.
O God, my first, my last, my stedfast choice,
My boundless bliss, the spring of all my joys!
I'll worship thee before the silver moon,
With silent pace has reach'd her cloudy noon;
Before the stars the midnight skies adorn,
Long, long before the slow approach of morn.
Thee I'll invoke, to thee glad anthems sing,
And with my voice join each harmonious string:
The midnight echoes at thy name shall wake,
And on their wings the joyful burthen take;
While one bright smile from thee, one pleasing ray,
Thro' the still shades shall dart celestial day.
My boundless bliss, the spring of all my joys!
I'll worship thee before the silver moon,
With silent pace has reach'd her cloudy noon;
Before the stars the midnight skies adorn,
Long, long before the slow approach of morn.
Thee I'll invoke, to thee glad anthems sing,
And with my voice join each harmonious string:
The midnight echoes at thy name shall wake,
And on their wings the joyful burthen take;
While one bright smile from thee, one pleasing ray,
Thro' the still shades shall dart celestial day.
As the scorch'd trav'ller in a desart land,
Tracing, with weary steps, the burning sand;
And fainting underneath the fierce extremes
Of raging thirst, longs for refreshing streams;
So pants my soul, with such an eager strife
I follow thee, the sacred spring of life.
Tracing, with weary steps, the burning sand;
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Of raging thirst, longs for refreshing streams;
So pants my soul, with such an eager strife
I follow thee, the sacred spring of life.
Open the boundless treasures of thy grace,
And let me once more see thy lovely face;
As I have seen thee in thy bright abode,
When all my pow'rs confest the present God.
And let me once more see thy lovely face;
As I have seen thee in thy bright abode,
When all my pow'rs confest the present God.
There I could say, and mark the happy place,
'Twas there I did his glorious foot-steps trace;
'Twas there (O let me raise an altar there!)
I saw as much of heav'n as mortal sense could bear;
There from his eyes I met the heav'nly beam
That kindled in my soul this deathless flame.
'Twas there I did his glorious foot-steps trace;
'Twas there (O let me raise an altar there!)
I saw as much of heav'n as mortal sense could bear;
There from his eyes I met the heav'nly beam
That kindled in my soul this deathless flame.
Life, the most valu'd good that mortals prize,
Compar'd to which, we all things else despise;
Life, in its vig'rous pride, with all that's stor'd
In the extent of that important word;
Ev'n life it self, my God, without thy love,
A tedious round of vanity would prove.
Grant me thy love, be that my glorious lot,
Swallow'd in that, be all things else forgot.
And while those heav'nly flames my breast inspire,
I'll call up all my pow'rs, and touch the tuneful lyre;
With all the eloquence of grateful lays,
I'll sing thy goodness, and recite thy praise.
The charming theme shall still my soul employ,
And give me foretastes of immortal joy;
With silent rapture, not to be exprest,
My eager wishes here shall richly feast.
When sullen night its gloomy curtains spreads;
And soothing sleep its drowzy influence sheds;
I'll banish flatt'ring slumbers from my eyes,
And praise thee till the golden morning rise;
Those silent hours shall consecrated be,
And thro' the list'ning shades I'll send my vows to thee.
Compar'd to which, we all things else despise;
Life, in its vig'rous pride, with all that's stor'd
In the extent of that important word;
Ev'n life it self, my God, without thy love,
A tedious round of vanity would prove.
Grant me thy love, be that my glorious lot,
Swallow'd in that, be all things else forgot.
And while those heav'nly flames my breast inspire,
I'll call up all my pow'rs, and touch the tuneful lyre;
With all the eloquence of grateful lays,
I'll sing thy goodness, and recite thy praise.
The charming theme shall still my soul employ,
And give me foretastes of immortal joy;
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My eager wishes here shall richly feast.
When sullen night its gloomy curtains spreads;
And soothing sleep its drowzy influence sheds;
I'll banish flatt'ring slumbers from my eyes,
And praise thee till the golden morning rise;
Those silent hours shall consecrated be,
And thro' the list'ning shades I'll send my vows to thee.
| The miscellaneous works (1739) | |