University of Virginia Library

I should renounce this heart from being mine,
If all its love were not entirely thine.
Objects of sense my passions may enflame,
But thou dost still my nobler reason claim.
Could I these stubborn faculties controul,
And manage all the motions of my soul,
My serious grief by pious tears I'd prove,
For each offence against forgiving love.
My breast should ne'er admit a spark of joy,
But when thy favour did my thoughts employ.
With early zeal I would my self present,
When to thy holy dwelling-place I went:
I'd breathe my soul in lofty praise to thee,
And join with angels in their harmony.
My ravish'd heart should at thy table prove
The heights of ecstasy, and sacred love;
Th' immortal food immortal strength should give,
On that alone my active hopes should live.
My hymns should still prevent the rising sun,
Like that, with joy, my vig'rous race I'd run:
When from his height he downward glory streams,
My mounting praise should meet his noon-day beams;
And still untir'd to thee, my God, I'd sing,
While the grey ev'ning stretch'd her shady wing.
Thy name and works should be my daily theme,
And constant subject of my nightly dream:
Celestial visions should employ my sleep,
While angels round my bed their watches keep.
My life, by one bright course of piety,
And not by months and years, should measur'd be.
Thy glory all my actions should design,
I'd hear no voice, obey no call but thine.
At thy command I would the world forego,
And no such thing as self, or int'rest know.
For thee I would my dearest friend resign,
And from my heart blot ev'ry name but thine.
Thy love, the fountain of my happiness,
Thy love should all my ravish'd soul possess:
And while I'm thus entirely blest in thee,
No happy monarch should my envy be;
Lost in the high enjoyment of thy love,
What glorious mortal could my wishes move?
I'd view each charming object as the glass,
In which my eyes, with vast delight should trace
The lov'd, tho' faint resemblance of thy face.
I'd nothing lovely call, no beauty see,
But that which led my rising soul to thee:
No harmony should e'er my ears rejoice,
Without the welcome music of thy voice.
Not the bright sun, in dazzling glory gay,
Nor the soft lustre of the lunar ray;
Not all the sweets that give the spring to please,
The morning Zephyr, or the ev'ning breeze;
The murm'ring rill thro' flow'ry borders drawn,
The secret covert, or the open lawn;
The verdant valley, or the fragrant field,
Abstract from thee, should any solace yield:
I'd be insensible of all delight,
But what unstain'd devotion should excite.

More I would speak, but all my words are faint,
Celestial love, what eloquence can paint?
Nor more can be by mortal words exprest,
But vast eternity shall tell the rest.