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The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D.

Containing, besides his Sermons, and Essays on miscellaneous subjects, several additional pieces, Selected from his Manuscripts by the Rev. Dr. Jennings, and the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, in 1753: to which are prefixed, memoirs of the life of the author, compiled by the Rev. George Burder. In six volumes

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Fire, Air, Earth, and Sea, praise ye the Lord.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Fire, Air, Earth, and Sea, praise ye the Lord.

I.

Earth, thou great footstool of our God
Who reigns on high; thou fruitful source
Of all our raiment, life and food;
Our house, our parent and our nurse;
Mighty stage of mortal scenes,
Drest with strong and gay machines,
Hung with golden lamps around:
(And flow'ry carpets spread the ground)
Thou bulky globe, prodigious mass,
That hangs unpillar'd in an empty space!
While thy unweildy weight rests on the feeble air,
Bless that Almighty Word that fix'd and holds thee there.

II.

Fire, thou swift herald of his face,
Whose glorious rage, at his command,
Levels a palace with the sand,
Blending the lofty spires in ruin with the base:

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Ye heav'nly flames, that singe the air,
Artillery of a jealous God,
Bright arrows that his sounding quivers bear
To scatter deaths abroad;
Lightnings, adore the sov'reign arm that flings
His vengeance, and your fires, upon the heads of kings.

III.

Thou vital element, the air,
Whose boundless magazines of breath
Our fainting flame of life repair,
And save the bubble man from the cold arms of death:
And ye, whose vital moisture yields
Life's purple stream a fresh supply;
Sweet waters, wand'ring thro' the flow'ry fields,
Or dropping from the sky;
Confess the Pow'r whose all-sufficient name
Nor needs your aid to build, or to support our frame.

IV.

Now the rude air, with noisy force,
Beats up and swells the angry sea,
They join to make our lives a prey,
And sweep the sailor's hopes away.
Vain hopes, to reach their kindred on the shores!
Lo, the wild seas and surging waves
Gape hideous in a thousand graves:
Be still, ye floods, and know your bounds of sand,
Ye storms, adore your Master's hand;
The winds are in his fist, the waves at his command.

V.

From the eternal emptiness
His fruitful word by secret springs
Drew the whole harmony of things
That form this noble universe:
Old nothing knew his pow'rful hand,
Scarce had he spoke his full command,
Fire, air, and earth, and sea, heard the creating call,
And leap'd from empty nothing to this beauteous all;
And still they dance, and still obey
The orders they receiv'd the great creation-day.