 | Poems |  |
71
THE ADDRESS
OF A POOR PRIVATE, WITH HIS FAMILY, WHILE PUBLIC MEN WERE ENGAGED IN A FAST.
Great Framer of unnumber'd worlds,
And whom unnumber'd worlds adore;
Whose goodness all thy creatures share,
While Nature trembles at thy power:
And whom unnumber'd worlds adore;
Whose goodness all thy creatures share,
While Nature trembles at thy power:
Thine is the hand that moves the spheres,
That wakes the winds, and lifts the sea,
And man, who moves the lord of earth,
Acts but the part assign'd by thee.
That wakes the winds, and lifts the sea,
And man, who moves the lord of earth,
Acts but the part assign'd by thee.
Kings, at whose will a nation bends,
Bow at thy throne, and own thy sway,
And, tho' like gods they tread on earth,
To thee the duteous service pay.
Bow at thy throne, and own thy sway,
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To thee the duteous service pay.
Chiefs, tho' with numerous hosts combin'd,
They fellow-blood in torrents spill,
Eager for conquest and for fame,
Do but thy great designs fulfill.
They fellow-blood in torrents spill,
Eager for conquest and for fame,
Do but thy great designs fulfill.
While suppliant crowds implore thy aid,
To thee we raise the humble cry,
Thine altar is the contrite heart,
Thine incense a repentant sigh.
To thee we raise the humble cry,
Thine altar is the contrite heart,
Thine incense a repentant sigh.
But, if injustice grind the poor,
Or avarice stain the sordid hand;
Or fierce ambition thirst for blood,
Or rude oppression waste the land;
Or avarice stain the sordid hand;
Or fierce ambition thirst for blood,
Or rude oppression waste the land;
The God, who hears the orphan's cry,
The widow's pray'r, the prisoner's groan,
Still list'ning to the poor opprest,
Shall spurn th' oppressor from his throne.
The widow's pray'r, the prisoner's groan,
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Shall spurn th' oppressor from his throne.
Nor will he heed the lifted eye,
The suppliant hand, the bending knee,
Nor altars grac'd with splendid rites,
The forms of public mockery.
The suppliant hand, the bending knee,
Nor altars grac'd with splendid rites,
The forms of public mockery.
Oh! Britain, in thy sober hour,
Learn justice, nor contemn the rod!
So will he love to be thy friend,
If thus thou own him, as thy God.
Learn justice, nor contemn the rod!
So will he love to be thy friend,
If thus thou own him, as thy God.
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