FIRE, AIR, EARTH, AND SEA, PRAISE YE THE LORD. EARTH, thou great footstool of our God That hangs unpillar'd in an empty space: Fire, thou swift herald of his face, Levels a palace with the sand, Blending the lofty spires in ruin with the base : Bright arrows that his sounding quivers bear Lightnings, adore the sovereign arm that flings Thou vital element, the air, Whose boundless magazines of breath [death: And save the bubble man from the cold arms of And ye, whose vital moisture yields Life's purple stream a fresh supply; Sweet waters, wandering through the flowery fields, Confess the Power whose all-sufficient name 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. From the eternal emptiness His fruitful word by secret springs Old Nothing knew his powerful hand, Fire, air, and earth, and sea, heard the creating call, All; And still they dance, and still obey The orders they receiv'd the great Creation-day. THE FAREWELL. DEAD be my heart to all below, Here I renounce my carnal taste All earthly joys are over-weigh'd With mountains of vexatious care; And where's the sweet that is not laid A bait to some destructive snare? Be gone for ever, mortal things! And leave the globe for ants to dwell. Come, Heaven, and fill my vast desires, GOD ONLY KNOWN TO HIMSELF. STAND and adore! how glorious he We gaze, and we confound our sight Thou sacred One, Almighty-Three, What lofty numbers shall we frame Seraphs, the nearest to the throne, You, whose capacious powers survey How flat your highest praises fall Great God, forgive our feeble lays, PARDON AND SANCTIFICATION. My crimes awake: and hideous fear Distracts my restless mind; Guilt meets my eyes with horrid glare, Almighty vengeance frowns on high, Where shall I hide this noxious head? Or shall I wrap me in the shade Is there no shelter from the eye Jesus, to thy dear wounds I fly, Those guardian drops my soul secure, And conscience smiles within. I bless that wondrous purple stream Yet is my soul but half redeem'd, |