Perhaps neither of these characters in perfection shall ever be seen on earth, till the seventh angel has sounded his awful trumpet; till the victory be complete over the beast and his image, when the natives of Heaven shall join in consort with prophets and saints, and sing to their golden harps, 'salvation, honour, and glory to him that sits upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever.'

May 14, 1709.

HORE LYRICÆ.

BOOK I.

SACRED TO DEVOTION AND PIETY.

WORSHIPPING WITH FEAR:

WHO dares attempt the' Eternal Name,

With notes of mortal sound? Dangers and glories guard the theme, And spread despair around.

Destruction waits to' obey his frown,
And Heaven attends his smile;
A wreath of lightning arms his crown,
But love adorns it still.

Celestial King! our spirits lie
Trembling beneath thy feet,
And wish, and cast a longing eye,
To reach thy lofty seat.

When shall we see the Great Unknown,

And in thy presence stand?

Reveal the splendors of thy throne,

But shield us with thy hand.

In thee what endless wonders meet!
What various glory shines!
The crossing rays too fiercely beat
Upon our fainting minds.

Angels are lost in sweet surprise,
If thou unveil thy grace;

And humble awe runs through the skies,
When wrath arrays thy face.

When mercy joins with majesty

To spread their beams abroad, Not all their fairest minds on high Are shadows of a GOD.

Thy works the strongest seraph sings
In a too feeble strain,

And labours hard on all his strings,
To reach thy thoughts in vain.

Created powers, how weak they be !
How short our praises fall!

So much akin to nothing we,
And thou the' Eternal All.

ASKING LEAVE TO SING.

YET, mighty GOD, indulge my tongue,
Nor let thy thunders roar,

Whilst the young notes and ventrous song
To worlds of glory soar.

If thou my daring flight forbid,
The Muse folds up her wings;
Or at thy word her slender reed
Attempts Almighty things.

Her slender reed, inspir'd by thee,
Bids a new Eden grow,
With blooming life on every tree,
And spreads a Heaven below.

She mocks the trumpet's loud alarms
Fill'd with thy dreadful breath;
And calls the angelic hosts to arms,
To give the nations death.

But when she tastes her Saviour's love,

And feels the rapture strong,

Scarce the divinest harp above
Aims at a sweeter song.

GOD'S DOMINION AND DECREES.

KEEP silence, all created things,

And wait your Maker's nod:

The Muse stands trembling while she sings

The honours of her Gon.

Life, death, and hell, and worlds unknown,
Hang on his firm decree :

He sits on no precarious throne,

Nor borrows leave to be.

+