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Ye glitt'ring planets of the sky,
Whose lamps the absent fun supply,

With him the song pursue ;
And let himself submissive own,
He borrows from a brighter Sun,
The light he lends to you.

Ye show'rs, and dews, whose moisture shed,
Calls into life the op'ning seed,

To him your praises yield;
Whose influence wakes the genial birth,
Drops fatness on the pregnant earth,
And crowns the laughing field.

Ye winds, that oft' tempestuous sweep
The ruffled surface of the deep,
With us confess

See, thro’ the heav'ns, the King of kings,
Up-borne on your expanded wings,
Come flying all abroad.

Ye floods of fire, where e'er ye flow,
With just submission humbly bow

To his superior pow'r;
Who stops the tempest on its way,
Or bids the flaming deluge stray,
And gives it strength to roar.


Ye fummer's heat, and winter's cold,
By turns in long succession rolld,

The drooping world to chear;
Praise him, who gave the sun and moon,
To lead the various seasons on,
And guide the circling year.

Ye frosts, that bind the wat'ry plain,
Ye filent show'rs of fleecy rain,

Pursue the heav'nly theme:
Praise him who sheds the driving snow,
Forbids the harden'd waves to flow,
And stops the rapid stream.

Ye days and nights, that swiftly borri,
From morn to eve, from eve to morn,

Alternate glide away ;
Praise him, whose never-varying light,
Absent, adds horror to the night,
But present gives the day.

Light from whose rays all beauty springs,
Darkness, whose wide-expanded wings

Involve the dusky globe :
Praise him, who, when the heav'ns he spread,
Darkness his thick pavillion made,
And light his regal robe.

XIY. Praise

Praise him, ye light’nings, as ye fly,
Wing'd with his vengeance thro' the sky,

And red with wrath divine;
Praise him, ye clouds, that wand'ring stray,
Or fix'd by him in close array,
Surround his aweful thrine.

Exalt, О earth! thy heav'nly King,
Who bids the plants, that form the spring,

With annual verdure bloom;
Whose frequent drops of kindly rain,
Prolifick swell the rip'ning grain,
And bless thy fertile womb.

Ye mountains, that ambitious rise,
And heave your fummits to the skies,

Revere his aweful nod;
Think how you once affrighted fled,
When Jordan fought his fountain-head,
And own'd th' approaching God.

Ye trees, that fill the rural scene,
Ye flowers, that o'er th' enamel'd green

In native beauty reign,
O! praise the Ruler of the skies,
Whose hand the genial sap supplies,

And clothes the smiling plain.



. .
Ye secret springs, ye gentle rills,
That murm'ring rise among the hills,

Or fill the humble vale ;
Praise him, at whofe almighty nod
The rugged rock diffolving flow'd,
And form'd a springing well.

Praise him, ye floods, and feas profound,
Whofe waves the spacious earth furround,

And roll from fhore to fhore;
Aw'd by his voice, ye feas, fubfide,

floods, within your channels glide, And tremble and adore.

Ye whales, that stir the boiling deep,
Or in its dark receffes fleep,

Remote from human eye;
Praise him, by whom ye

all are fed, Praise him, without whose heavenly aid Ye languilh, faint, and die.

Ye birds, exalt your Maker's name,
Begin, and with th' important theme

Your artless lays improve ;
Wake with your songs the rising day,
Let mufick found on ev'ry spray,

And fill the vocal grove.

XXII. Praise to age

Praise him, ye beasts, that nightly roam
Amid the folitary gloom,

Th' expected prey to seize;
Ye llaves of the laborious plough,
Your stubborn necks submissive bow,
And bend your weary'd knees.

Ye fons of men, his praise display,
Who ftampt his image on your clay,

And gave it pow'r to move ;
Ye, that in Judah's confines dwell,
From age

fucceflive tell The wonders of his love.

Let Levi's tribe the lay prolong,
'Till angels listen to the song,

And bend attentive down ;
Let wonder seize the heav'nly train,
Pleas’d, while they hear a mortal strain,
So sweet, so like their own.

And you, your thankful voices join,
That oft at Salem's sacred thrine

Before his altars kneel;
Where thron'd in majesty he dwells,
And from the mystick cloud reveals
The dictates of his will.


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