XXII.—AN HYMN TO CHRIST JESUS, THE ETERNAL LIFE.
I
Where shall the tribes of Adam find
The sov'reign good to fill the mind?
Ye sons of moral wisdom, show
The spring whence living waters flow.
II
Say, will the Stoic's flinty heart
Melt, and this cordial juice impart?
Could Plato find these blissful streams,
Amongst his raptures and his dreams?
III
In vain I ask; for nature's power
Extends but to this mortal hour:
'Twas but a poor relief she gave
Against the terrors of the grave.
IV
Jesus, our kinsman, and our God,
Array'd in majesty and blood,
Thou art our life; our souls in thee
Possess a full felicity.
V
All our immortal hopes are laid
In thee, our surety, and our head;
Thy cross, thy cradle, and thy throne,
Are big with glories yet unknown.
VI
Let atheists scoff, and Jews blaspheme
Th'eternal life, and Jesus' name;
A word of his almighty breath
Dooms the rebellious world to death.
VII
But let my soul for ever lie
Beneath the blessings of thine eye;
'Tis heav'n on earth, 'tis heav'n above,
To see thy face, to taste thy love.
