University of Virginia Library


262

HYMN,

(Sung at the late ordination of Mr. Pierpont, in Boston. )

O, THOU—the Everlasting!—Thou,
The only God!—Jehovah!—we,
With all thy throned archangels, bow
In hymning and in prayer to thee!

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Around thy cloud-encompassed throne,
Where unseen harps for ever ring;
Where everlasting trumps are blown;
And Kings—and Bards—and Prophets sing—
We kneel—O, God!—with them that were
Thy chosen ones on earth:—we bow,
With crowned multitudes, in prayer,
And ask thy blessing—Father, now.
On this, thy flock, assembled here,
And him that thou hast called to thee,
Commissioned, Father!—to appear,
In thy consuming ministry:
O, Thou!—to whom thy people came,
In ancient time—with songs and prayers:
Whose servant saw thee, wrapped in flame—
O be our God, as thou art theirs!
 

I can offer no other apology for having ventured upon this species of composition—than the true one. It is this—indignation at the miserable, trashy—not to say blasphemous, versifications of scripture abroad, purporting to be Sacred Songs—and Divine Hymns—alike destitute of magnificence and sublimity—of the royal magnificence of Solomon—and the great simplicity of Isaiah—having nothing of the monarch, less of the prophet —and still less of the bard to recommend them, in their English dress.

The attempt was a bold one—and I feel that I have failed—for I am not satisfied with what I have done:— yet as I could not—if I would—produce any thing worse than I have seen, and as I might produce something better, I have made the attempt. May it lead others— with a better knack at versifying—to a proper veneration for the noble simplicity—and richness—the unadulterated and vast sublimity of scripture.