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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 trains
And move and charm the starry plains
Jefus the Lord their harps employs,
Jefus the name of both our joys
Sounds fweet from every string.
Hark, how beyond the narrow bounds
The godhead of the Son.
How on the Father's breaft he lay,
The darling of his foul, Infinite years before the day
Or heavens began to roll.
And now they fink the lofty tone,
O facred beauties of the Man!
His flesh all pure, without a flain,
Then, how he look'd, and how he fmil'd,
Sweet cherubs, ftay, dwell here a while,
At his command the blind awake,
He shed a thousand blessings round
Thus while with unambitious ftrife
In the full choir a broken ftring
Seraph and faint, with drooping wings,
No blooming trees, nor bubbling fprings,
Then all at once to living strains
They summon every chord,
Break up the tomb, and burst his chains,
And fhew their rifing Lord.
Around the flaming army throngs
To guard him to the skies,
With loud Hofannas on their tongues,
And triumph in their
In awful state the conquering God
Now let me rife, and join their fong,
My heart, my hand, my ear, my tongue,
I would begin the mufic here,
And fo my foul fhould rife:
Oh! for fome heavenly notes to bear
There, ye that love my Saviour, fit,
I am confin'd to earth no more,
Fire, Air, Earth, and Sea, praise ye the LORD.
EARTH, thou great footstool of our God
Our houfe, our parent, and our nurse;
While thy unweildy weight refts on the feeble air,
Blefs that Almighty Word that fix'd and holds thee there.
Fire, thou fwift herald of his face,
Whofe glorious rage, at his command,
Levels a palace with the fand,
Blending the lofty fpires in ruin with the base:
Ye heavenly flames, that finge the air,
Artillery of a jealous God,
Bright arrows that his founding quivers bear
Lightnings, adore the fovereign arm that flings
His vengeance, and your fires, upon the heads of kings.
Thou vital element, the Air,
Whofe boundless magazines of breath
Our fainting flame of life repair,
And fave the bubble Man from the cold arms of death:
And ye, whofe vital moisture yields
Life's purple stream a fresh supply;
Sweet Waters, wandering through the flowery fields, Or dropping from the sky;
Confefs the Power whofe all-fufficient name
Nor needs your aid to build, or to fupport our frame.
Now the rude air, with noify force,
Vain hopes, to reach their kindred on the fhores !
Gape hideous in a thousand graves :
Be ftill, ye floods, and know your bounds of fand,
The winds are in his fift, the waves at his command.
From the eternal emptiness
His fruitful word by fecret fprings
Old Nothing knew his powerful hand,
Fire, Air, and Earth, and Sea, heard the creating call,
The orders they receiv'd the great creation-day.