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One general fong! To him, ye vocal gales,
Breathefoft, whofe fpirit in your freshnefsbreathes:
Oh talk of him in folitary glooms,
Where o'er the rock the fcarcely waving pine
Fills the brown fhade with a religious awe!
And ye, whofe bolder note is heard afar,
Who shake th'aftonish'd world, lift high to heav'n
Th'impetuous fong, and fay from whom you rage.
His praife, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills;
And let me catch it as I mufe along.
Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound;
Ye fofter floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou majestic main,
A fecret world of wonders in thyself,
Sound his stupendous praise, whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roaring fall.
Soroll your incenfe, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him, whofe fun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whofe pencil
Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave, to Him;
Breathe your still fong into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heav'n, as earth afleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildeft beams,
Ye conftellations, while your angels strike,
Amid the fpangled fky, the filver lyre.
Great fource of day! bleft image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide,
From world to world, the vital ocean round,
On nature write with every beam his praise.
The thunder rolls: he hufh'd the proftrate world;
While cloud, to cloud returns the folemn hymn.
Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye mofly rocks,
Retain the found: the broad refponfive lowe,
Yevallies, raife; for the Great Shepherd reigns;
And his unfuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all awake: a boundless fong
Burft from the groves! and when the reftiefs day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world afleep,
Sweetest of birds! fweet Philomela, charm
The liftening fhades, and teach the night his praife.
Ye chief for whom the whole creation fmiles;
At once the head, the heart, the tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn! in fwarming cities vaft,
Affembled men to the deep organ join
The long-refounding voice, oft breaking clear,
At folemn paufes, thro' the fwelling base;
And, as each mingling flame encreafes each,
In one united ardor rife to heav'n.
Or if you rather chufe the rural fhade,
And find a fane in every facred grove;
There let the fhepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting feraph, and the poet's lyre,
Still fing the God of Seafons as they roll.
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the bloffom blows; the Summer ray
Ruffets the plain; inspiring Autumn gleams;
Or Winter rifes in the blackening east;
Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more,
And dead to joy, forget my heart to beat.
Should fate command me to the fartheft verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to fong; where firft the fun Gilds Indian mountains, or his fetting beam Flames on th' Atlantic ifles, 'tis nought to me: Since God is ever prefent, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full; And where He vital fpreads, there must be joy. When even at laft the folemn hour fhall come, And wing my myftic flight to future worlds, I cheerful will obey; there with new powers, Will rifing wonders fing: I cannot go Where univerfal love not fmiles around, Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their funs: From feeming evil ftill educing good, And better thence again, and better still, In infinite progreffion.-But I lofe Myself in Him, in light ineffable! Come then, expreffive filence, mufe his praise.
$31. Hymn for Morning. PARNELL. the ftar that leads the day, Rifing, fhoots a golden ray To make the shades of darkness go From heaven above and earth below; And warn us early with the fight, To leave the beds of filent night; From an heart fincere and found, From its very deepest ground; Send devotion up on high, Wing'd with flame to reach the sky. See the time for fleep has run, Rife before, or with the fun: Lift thy hands, and humbly pray, The Fountain of eternal day; That, as the light ferenely fair, Illuftrates all the tracts of air, The Sacred Spirit fo may reft, With quickening beams, upon thy breaft; And kindly clean it all within From darker blemishes of fin; And fhine with grace until we view The realm it gilds with glory too. See the day that dawns in air, Brings along its toil and care: From the lap of night it springs, With heaps of bus'nefs on its wings; Prepare to meet them in a mind, That bows fubmiffively refign'd; That would to works appointed fall, That knows that God has order'd all. And whether, with a small repaft, We break the fober morning fast ; Or in our thoughts and houses lay The future methods of the day; Or early walk abroad to meet Our bufinefs, with industrious feet: Whate'er we think, whate'er we do, His glory ftill be kept in view. O, Giver of eternal blifs, Heavenly Father, grant me this:
Thefe pieces of Parnell feem to have been left in an incorrect and unfinished flate; but as they breathe a glowing piety, and are not deficient in poetry, they are here inferted.
Grant it all, as well as me,
All whofe hearts are fix'd on thee;
Who revere thy Son above,
Who thy Sacred Spirit love.
$32. Hymn for Noon. PARNELL.
HE fun is fwiftly mounted high,
It glitters in the fouthern fky;
Its beams with force and glory beat,
And fruitful earth is fill'd with heat.
Father, also with thy fire
Warm the cold, the dead defire,
And make the facred love of thee,
Within my foul, a fun to me.
Let it fhine fo fairly bright,
That nothing else be took for light;
That worldly charms be feen to fade,
And in its luftre find a fhade.
Let it strongly shine within,
To scatter all the clouds of fin
That drive, when gufts of passion rife,
And intercept it from our eyes.
Let its glory more than vie
With the fun that lights the sky :
Let it fwiftly mount in air,
Mount with that, and leave it there;
And foar with more afpiring flight,
To realms of everlafting light.
Thus, while here I'm forc'd to be,
I daily wish to live with thee;
And feel that union which thy love
Will, after death, complete above.
From my foul I fend my prayer,
Great Creator, bow thine ear;
Thou, for whofe propitious fway
The world was taught to fee the day;
Who spoke the word, and earth begun,
And fhew'd its beauties in the fun;
With pleasure I thy creatures view,
And would, with good affection too;
Good affection fweetly free,
Loose from them, and move to thee;
O, teach ine due returns to give,
And to thy glory let me live;
And then my days fhall fhine the more,
Or pass more blessed than before.
$33. Hymn for Evening. PARNELL. THE beam-repelling mifts arife,
And evening spreads obfcurer skies:
The twilight will the night forerun,
And night itself be foon begun.
Upon thy knees devoutly bow,
And pray the Lord of glory, now
To fill thy breaft, or deadly fin
May caufe a blinder night within.
And whether pleafing vapours rife,
Which greatly dim the clofing eyes;
Which makes the weary meinbers bleft,
With fweet refreshment in their reft;
Or whether fpirits in the brain
Difpel their foft embrace again;
And on my watchful bed I stay,
Forfook by fleep, and waiting day;
Be God for ever in my view,
And never he forfake me too;
But ftill as day concludes in night,
To break again with new-born light,
His wondrous bounty let me find,
With ftill a more enlighten'd mind;
When grace and love in one agree;
Grace from God, and love from me;
Grace that will from heaven infpire;
Love that feals it in defire :
Grace and love that mingle beams,
And fill me with increafing flames.
Thou that haft thy palace far
Above the moon and every star;
Thou that fitteft on a throne
To which the night was never known,
Regard my voice and make me blest,
By kindly granting its request.
If thoughts on thee my foul employ,
My darkness will afford me joy
Till thou shalt call, and I fhall foar,
And part with darkness evermore.
$34. The Soul in Sorrow. PARNELL. WITH kind compaffion hear my cry, O, Jefu, Lord of Life, on high!
As when the fummer's feafons beat
With scorching flame and parching heat,
The trees are burnt, the flowers fade,
And thirsty gaps in earth are made;
My thoughts of comfort languifh so,
And fo my foul is broke by woe.
Then on thy fervant's drooping head
Thy dews of bleffing fweetly fhed;
Let thofe a quick refreshment give,
And raise my mind, and bid me live.
My fears of danger, while I breathe,
My dread of endless hell beneath :
My fenfe of forrow for my fin,
To fpringing comfort, change within ;
Change all my fad complaints for ease,
To cheerful notes of endless praise;
Nor let a tear mine eyes employ,
But fuch as owe their birth to joy:
Joy transporting, fweet and strong,
Fit to fill and raise my fong;
Joy that fhall refounded be,
While days and nights fucceed for me,
Be not as a Judge fevere;
For fo thy prefence who may bear?
On all my words and actions look
(I know they're written in thy book);
But then regard my mournful cry,
And look with mercy's gracious eye;
What needs my blood, fince thine will do,
To pay the debt to Justice due?
O, tender mercy's art divine!
Thy forrow proves the cure of mine!
Thy dropping wounds, thy woeful smart,
Allay the bleedings of my heart:
Thy death, in death's extreme of pain,
Reftores my foul to life again.
Guide me then, for here I burn,
To make my Saviour fome return.
I'll rife (if that will please him, ftill;
And fure I've heard him own it will);
I'll trace his steps, and bear my
Defpifing every grief and lofs,
Since he, defpifing pain and fhaine,
First took up his, and did the fame.
The Happy Man. PARNELL.
HOW blefs'd the man, how fully fo,
As far as man is blefs'd below,
Who, taking up his crofs, effays
To follow Jefus all his days;
With refolution to obey,
And fteps enlarging in his way!
The Father of the faints above
Adopts him with a father's love,
And makes his bosom throughly shine
With wondrous ftores of grace divine;
Sweet grace divine, the pledge of joy,
That will his foul above employ;
Full joy, that, when his time is done,
Becomes his portion as a fon.
Ah me! the fweet infus'd defires,
The fervid wishes, holy fires,
Which thus a melted heart refine,
Such are his, and fuch be mine.
From hence defpifing all befides
That earth reveals, or ocean hides ;
All that men in either prize,
On God alone he fets his eyes.
From hence his hope is on the wings,
His health renews, his fafety springs,
His glory blazes up below,
And all the ftreams of comfort flow.
He calls his Saviour King above,
Lord of mercy, Lord of love;
And finds a kingly care defend,
And mercy fimile, and love defcend,
To cheer, to guide him in the ways
Of this vain world's deceitful maze :
And though the wicked earth difplay
Its terrors in their fierce array;
Or gape fo wide that horror fhows
Its hell replete with endless woes;
Such fuccour keeps him clear of ill.
Still firm to good, and dauntless still.
So, fix'd by Providence's hands,
A rock amidst an ocean ftands;
So bears without a trembling dread,
The tempeft beating round its head;
And with its fide repels the wave,
Whofe hollow feems a coming grave:
The fkies, the deeps, are heard to roar;
The rock ftands fettled as before.
I, all with whom he has to do,
Admire the life which bleffes you;
That feeds a foe, that aids a friend,
Without a bye defigning end;
Its knowing real intereft lies
On the bright fide of yonder fkies,
Where, having made a title fair,
It mounts, and leaves the world to care.
While he that fecks for pleafing days In earthly joys and evil ways,
Is but the fool of toil or fame
(Though happy be the specious name)
And made by wealth, which makes him great, A more confpicuous wretch of state.
$36. The Way to Happiness. PARNELL. HOW long, ye miferable blind,
Shall idle dreams engage your mind;
How long the paffions make their flight
At empty fhadows of delight!
No more in paths of error stray,
The Lord thy Jefus is the way,
The fpring of happinefs; and where
Should men feek happiness but there?
Then run to meet him at your need,
Run with boldnefs, run with speed,
For he forfook his own abode
To meet thee more than half the road.
He laid afide his radiant crown,
And love for mankind brought him down
To thirst and hunger, pain and woe,
To wounds, to death itself below;
And he, that fuffer'd thefe alone
For all the world, defpifes none.
To bid the foul that's fick, be clean;
To bring the loft to life again;
To comfort thofe that grieve for ill,
Is his peculiar goodness ftill.
And, as the thoughts of parents run
Upon a dear and only son,
So kind a love his mercies fhow,
So kind and more extremely fo.
Thrice happy men; (or find a phrase
That fpeaks your blifs with greater praise)
Who most obedient to thy call,
Leaving pleafures, leaving all,
With heart, with foul, with ftrength incline,
O fweeteft Jefu! to be thine.
Who know thy will, obferve thy ways,
And in thy fervice fpend their days:
Ev'n death, that feems to fet them free,
But brings them clofer ftill to thee.
$37. The Convert's Love. PARNELL. LESSED light of faints on high, Who fill the manfions of the fky; Sure defence, whofe mercy ftill Preferves thy fubjects. here from ill; . Oh, my Jefus make me know How to pay the thanks I owe!
As the fond fheep that idly ftrays, With wanton play, through winding ways, Which never hits the road of home, O'er wilds of danger learns to roam, Till, wearied out with idle fear, And pafling there, and turning here, He will, for reft, to covert run, And meet the wolf he wifh'd to fhun: Thus wretched I, through wanton will, Run blind and headlong on in iil: 'Twas thus from fin to fin I flew, And thus I might have perifi'd too;
But mercy dropt the likenefs here,
And fhew'd and fav'd me from my fear.
While o'er the darkness of my mind ·
The facred fpirit purely fhin'd,
And mark'd and brighten'd all the way
Which leads to everlasting day;
And broke the thickening clouds of fin,
And fix'd the light of love within.
Froin hence my ravish'd foul afpires,
And dates the rife of its defires:
From hence to thee, my God! I turn,
And fervent wishes fay I burn;
I burn thy glorious face to fee,
And live in endless joy with thee,
There's no fuch ardent kind of flame
Between the lover and the dame;
Nor fuch affection parents bear
To their young and only heir;
Though join'd together, both confpire,
And boaft a doubled force of fire.
My tender heart, within its feat,
Diffolves before the fcorching heat;
As foftening wax is taught to run
Before the warmnefs of the fun.
Oh, my flame, my pleasing pain,
Burn and purify my ftain;
Warm me, burn me, day by day,
Till you purge my earth away;
Till at the laft I throughly fhine,
And turn a torch of love divine.
$38. A Defire to Praife. PARNELL.
PROPITIOUS Son of God, to thee,
With all my foul, I bend my knce;
My wifh 1 fend, my want impart,
And dedicate my mind and heart;
For as an abfent parent's fon,
Whofe fecond year is only run,
When no protecting friend is near,
Void of wit and void of fear,
With things that hurt him fondly plays,
Or here he falls, or there he ftrays;
So, fhould my foul's eternal guide,
The facred fpirit, be deny'd,
Thy-fervant foon the lofs would know,
And fink in fin, or run to woe.
O, fpirit bountifully kind,
Warm, poffefs, and fill my mind;
Difperfe my fins with light divine,
And raife the flames of love with thine;
Before thy pleatures rightly priz'd,
Let wealth and honor be detpis'd;
And let the Father's glory be
More dear than life itfel to me.
Sing of Jefus Virgins fing
Him, your everlafting King
Sing of Jefus cheerful youth,
Him, the God of love and truth!
Write, and raife a fong divine,
Or come and hear, and borrow-mine,
Son Eternal, word fupreme,
Who made the univerfal frame,-
Heaven, and all its shining how,
Earth, and all it holds below;
Bow with mercy, bow thine ear,
While we fing thy praifes here;
Son Eternal, ever-bleft,
Refting on the Father's breaft,
Whofe tender love for all provides,
Whofe power over all prefides;
Bow with pity, bow thine ear,
While we fing thy praifes here!
Thou, by pity's foft extreme,
Mov'd, and won, and fet on flame,
Affum'd the form of man, and fell
In pains, to refcue man from hell;
How bright thine humble glories rife,
And match the luftre of the fkies,
From death and hell's dejected ftate
Arifing, thou refum'd thy feat;
And golden thrones of bliís prepar'd
Above, to be thy faints reward!
How bright thy glorious honors rife,
And with new luftre grace the skies!
For thee, the fweet feraphic choir
Raife the voice and tune the lyre;
And praifes with harmonious found
Through all the higheft heaven rebound,
O make our notes with theirs agree, And blefs the fouls that fing of thee 1 To thee the churches here rejoice, The folemn organs aid the voice; To facred roofs the found we raife," The facred roofs refound thy praise: And while our notes in one agree, O blefs the church that fings to thee!
$39. On Happiness in this Life. PARNELL. THE morning opens, very freshly gay,
And life itself is in the month of May. With green my fancy paints an arbour o'er, And flow'rets, with a thousand colours more; Then falls to weaving that, and spreading thefe, And foftly thakes them with an easy breeze. With golden fruit adorns the bending fhade, Or trails a hiver water o'er its bed. Glide, gentle water, ftill more gently by, While in this fummer-bower of blits I lye, And fweetly fmg of fenfe-delighting flames, And nymphs and thepherds, foft invented names; Or view the branches which around me twine, And praife their fruit, diffufing fprightly wine; Or find new pleafures in the world to praife, And still with this return adorn my lays;
Range round your gardens of eternal fpring, "Go, range my fenfes, while I fweetly fing:" In vain, in vain, alas! feduc'd by ill, And afted wildly by the force of will! I tell my toul, it will be conftant May, And charm a feafon hever made to ftay; My beauteous arbour will not ftand a ftorm; The world but promifes, and can't perform : Then fade, ve leaves; and wither, all ye flowers; I'll doat no longer in enchanted bowers; But fadly mourn, in melancholy fong, The vain concerts that held my foul fo long; The lufts that tempt us with delusive show; And fin, brought forth for everlafting woe.
Thus fhall the notes to Sorrow's object rife,
While frequent refts procure a place for fighs;
And, as I moan upon the naked plain,
Be this the burthen closing every strain :
"Return, my fenfes; range no more abroad;
"He'll only find his blifs who fecks for God."
$40. Extacy. PARNELL.
THE fleeting joys, which all affords below,
Work the fond heart with unperforming fhow;
The with that makes our happier life complete,
Nor grafps the wealth nor honors of the great;
Nor loosely fails on Pleafure's easy stream,
Nor gathers wreaths from all the groves of fame;
Weak man, whofe charms to thefe alone confine,
Attend my prayer, and learn to make it thine.
From thy rich throne, where circling trains of
Make day that's endlefs, infinitely bright; [light
Thence Heav'nly Father! thence with mercy dart
One beam of brightnefs to my longing heart:
Dawn thro' the mind, drive Error's clouds away,
And still the rage in Paffion's troubled fea;
That the poor banifh'd foul, ferene and free,
May rife from earth, to vifit heaven and thee!
Come, Peace divine! fhed gently from above,
Infpire my willing bofom, wondrous Love;
Thy purpled pinions to my fhoulders tye,
And point the paffage where I want to fly.
But whither, whither now! what powerful fire
With this bleis'd influence equals my defire?
I rife (or Love, the kind deluder, reigns,
And acts in fancy fuch enchanted scenes);
Earth leffening flies, the parting fkies retreat,
The fleecy clouds my waving feathers beat;
And now the fun and now the ftars are gone,
Yet still methinks the fpirit bears me on,
Where tracts of æther purer blue difplay,
And edge the golden realm of native day.
Oh, ftrange enjoyment of a blifs unfeen!
Oh, ravishment! Oh, facred rage within!
Charm'd with the fight, I long to bear a part;
The pleature flutters at my ravifh'd heart.
Sweet faints and angels of the heavenly choir,
If love has warm'd you with celeftial fire,
Affift my words, and, as they move along,
With Hallelujah's crown the burthen'd fong.
Father of all above, and all below,
O great, and far beyond expreflion fo;
No bounds thy knowledge,none thy power confine,
For power and knowledge in their fource are thine;
Around thee glory fpreadsher golden wing:
Sing, glittering angels, Hallelujah fing.
Son of the Father, firft-begotten Son,
Ere the fhort meafuring line of time begun,
The world has feen thy works, and joy'd to fee
The bright effulgence manifeft in thee. [fpring;
The world mu own the Love's unfathom'd
Sing, glittering angels, Hallelujah fing.
Proceeding Spirit, equally divine,
In whom the Godhead's full perfections fhine,
With various graces, comforts unexpreft,
With holy tranfports you refine the breast;
And earth is heavenly where your gifts you bring;
Sing, glittering angels, Hallelujah fing.
But where's my rapture, where my wondrous
What interruption makes my blifs retreat? [heat?
This world's got in, the thoughts of t'other's croft,
And the gay picture's in my fancy loft.
With what an cager zeal the confcious foul
Would claim its feat, and, foaring, pafs the pole!
But our attempts these chains of earth restrain,
Deride our toil, and drag us down again.
So from the ground afpiring meteors go,
And, rank'd with planets, light the world below;
But their own bodies fink them in the fky, [to fly.
When the warmth's gone that taught them how
§ 41. On Divine Love, by meditating on the Wounds of Chriji. PARNELL.
Look with pity from above:
Shed the precious purple tide
From thine hands, thy feet, thy fide;
Let thy ftreams of comfort roll,
Let them pleafe and fill my foul;
Let me thus for ever be
Tumultuous pleasure, rais'd on peace of mind,HOLY Jefus! God of Love!
Sincere, excelfive, from the world refin'd;
I fee the light that veils the throne on high,
A light unpierc'd by man's impurer eye;
I hear the words, that iffuing thence proclaim,
"Let God's attendants praife his awful name!"
Then heads unnumber'd bend before the fhrine,
Myfterious feat of Majefty divine!
And hands unnumber'd strike the filver ftring,
And tongues unnumber'd Hallelujah fing.
See, where the fhining Seraphims appear,
And fink their decent eyes with holy fear.
See flights of angels all their feathers raife,
And range the orbs, and, as they range, they praife!
Behold the great Apoftles, fweetly met,
And high on pearls of azure æther fet.
Behold the Prophets, full of heavenly fire,
With wandering finger wake the trembling lyre;
And hear the Martyrs tune, and all around
The church triumphant makes the region found.
With harps of gold, with bows of ever-green,
With robes of white, the pious throngs are feen;
Exalted anthems all their hours employ;
And all is mufic and excefs of joy!
Full of gladnefs, full of thee!
This, for which my withes pine,
Is the cup of love divine;
Sweet affections flow from hence,
Sweet, above the joys of fenfe;
Bleffed philtre! how we find
Its facred worships! how the mind,
Of all the world, forgetful grown,
Can defpife an earthly throne;
Raife its thoughts to realms above,
Think of God, and fing of love!
Love celeftial, wondrous heat,
O, beyond expreflion great!
What refiftlefs charms were thine,
In thy good, thy beft defign!
When God was hated, Sin obey'd,
And man undone without thy aid,