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Thus shall the God our Saviour come,
And lightnings round his chariot play:
Ye lightnings, fly to make him room,
Ye glorious storms, prepare his way!



Attempted in English Sapphick.
HEN the fierce North wind with his airy forces

Rears up the Baltick to a foaming fury;
And the red lightning, with a storm of hail comes

Rushing amain down. How the poor sailors stand amaz'd and tremble ! While the hoarse thunder, like a bloody trumpet, Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters

Quick to devour them. Such shall the noise be, and the wild disorder, (If things eternal may be like these earthly) Such the dire terror when the great Archangel

Shakes the creation; Tears the strong pillars of the vault of heaven, Breaks up old marble, the repose of princes; See the graves open, and the bones arising,

Flames all around theın. Hark, the thrill outcries of t'ie guilty wretches ! Lively bright horror, and amazing anguish, Stare through their eye-lids, while the living worm lies

Gnawing within them.


Thoughts, like old vultures, prey upon their heart-strings,
And the sinart tinges, when the eye beholds the
Lofty J udge frowning, and a flood of vengeance

Rolling afore him.
Hopeless immortals ! how they scream and shiver
While devils push them to the pit wide-yawning
Hideous and gloomy to receive them headlong

Down to the centre.

Stop here, my fancy : (all away, ye

horrid Doleful ideas !) come, arise to Jesus, · How he sits God-like! and the saints around him

Thron'd, yet adoring! O may I sit there when he comes triumphant, Dooming the nations! then ascend to glory, While our Hosannas all along the passage

Shout the Redeemer.

The SONG of ANGELS above.

EARTH has detaind me prisoner long,

And I'm grown weary now:
My heart, my hand, my ear, iny tongue,

There's nothing here for you.
Tird in my thoughts, I stretch me down,

And upward glance mine eyes.
Upward (my Father) to thy throne,
And to my native skies,



There the dear Man my Saviour fits,

The God, how bright he shines ! And scatters infinite delights

On all the happy minds,
Seraphs with elevated strains

Circle the throne around,
And move and charm the starry plains

With an immortal found.
Jesus the Lord their harps employs,

Jesus my love they fing,
Jesus the name of both our joys

Sounds fweet from every string.
Hark, how beyond the narrow bounds

Of time and space they run,
And speak in most majestic founds,

The godhead of the Son.
How on the Father's breast he lay,

The darling of his foul,
Infinite years before the day

Or heavens began to roll.
And now they link the lofty tone,

And gentler notes they play,
And bring th' Eternal Godhead down

To dwell in humble clay.
O sacred beauties of the Man !

(The God resides within)
His flesh all pure, without a fain,

His soul without a fin.


Then, how he look'd, and how he smil'd,

What wondrous things he said !
Sweet cherubs, stay, dwell here a while,

And tell what Jesus did.
At his command the blind awake,

And feel the gladsome rays ;
He bids the dumb attempt to speak,

They try their tongues in praise.
He shed a thousand blessings round

Where'er he turn'd his eye ;
He spoke, and at the sovereign found

The hellish legions ily.
Thus while with unambitious strife

Th'ethereal minstrels rove
hrough all the labours of his life,

And wonders of his love,
In the full choir a broken string

Groans with a strange surprize;
The rest in silence mourn their king,

That bleeds, and loves, and dies.
Seraph and saint, with drooping wings,

Cease their harmonious breath ;
No blooming trees, nor bubbling springs,

While Jesus Neeps in death.
Then all at once to living strains

They summon every chord,
Break up the tomb, and burst his chains,
And shew their rising Lord.


Around the flaming army throngs

To guard him to the skies,
With loud Hosannas on their tongues,

And triumph in their eyes.
In awful state the conquering God

Ascends his shining throne,
While tuneful angels found abroad

The victories he has won.

Now let me rise, and join their song,

And be an angel too; My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,

Here 's joyful work for you.
I would begin the music here,

And so my soul should rise :
Oh ! for some heavenly notes to bear

My spirit to the skies !
There, ye that love my Saviour, sit,

There I would fain have place,
Amongst your thrones, or at your feet,

So I might see his face.

I am confin'd to earth no more,

But mount in haste above, To bless the God that I adore,

And fing the Man I love,

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