Then heads unnumber'd bend before the fhrine,
Myfterious feat of Majefty divine!
And hands unnumber'd strike the filver string,
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 boughs 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.
Charm'd with the fight, I long to bear a part;
The pleasure 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 Hallelujahs crown the burthen'd fong.
Father of all above, and all below,
O great, and far beyond expreffion fo;
No bounds thy knowledge, none thy power confinė, For power and knowledge in their fource are thine; Around thee glory fpreads her golden wing:
Sing, glittering angels, Hallelujah fing.
Son of the Father, first-begotten Son,
Ere the short measuring line of time begun,
The world has feen thy works, and joy'd to fee
The bright effulgence manifeft in thee.
The world muft own thee Love's unfathom'd spring; Sing, glittering angels, Hallelujah fing.
Proceeding Spirit, equally divine,
In whom the Godhead's full perfections fhine,
With various graces, comforts unexprefs'd,
With holy transports 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 heat, What interruption makes my bliss retreat?
This world's got in, the thoughts of t' other's croft,
And the gay picture's in my fancy loft.
With what an eager zeal the confcious foul
Would claim its feat, and, foaring, pass 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 sky,
When the warmth's gone that taught them how to fly.
HOLY Jefus! God of Love!
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 please and fill my foul.
Let me thus for ever be
Full of gladness, full of thee.
This, for which my wishes pine,
Is the cup of love divine;
Sweet affections flow from hence,
Sweet, above the joys of sense;
Bleffed philtre! how we find
Its facred worships! how the mind,
Of all the world forgetful grown,
Can despise an earthly throne;
Raise its thoughts to realms above,
Think of God, and fing of love.
Love celeftial, wondrous heat,
O, beyond expreffion 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,
From the feats of endless peace
They brought the Son, the Lord of Grace;
They taught him to receive a birth,
To cloath in flesh, to live on earth;
And after, lifted him on high,
And taught him on the crofs to die.
Love celeftial, ardent fire,
O, extreme of fweet defire!
Spread thy brightly raging flame
Through and over all
my frame
Let it warm me, let it burn,
Let my corpse to ashes turn;
And, might thy flame thus act with me
To fet the foul from body free,
I next would use thy wings, and fly
To meet my Jefus in the sky.
(WRITTEN IN DECEMBER 1712.)
MOTHER of Plenty, daughter of the skies,
Sweet Peace, the troubled world's defire, arife; Around thy Poet weave thy fummer shades, Within my fancy fpread thy flowery meads;
Amongst thy train soft Ease and Pleasure bring,
And thus indulgent footh me whilft I fing.
Great Anna claims the fong; no brighter name
Adorns the lift of never-dying fame;
No fairer foul was ever form'd above;
None e'er was more the grateful nation's love,
Nor lov'd the nation more. I fly with speed
To fing fuch lines as Bolingbroke may read,
On war difpers'd, on faction trampled down,
On all the peaceful glories of the crown.
And, if I fail in too confin'd a flight,
May the kind world upon my labours write,
"So fell the lines which ftrove for endless fame,
"Yet fell, attempting on the nobleft theme."
Now twelve revolving years has Britain flood,
With lofs of wealth, and vaft expence of blood,
Europa's guardian; ftill her gallant arms
Secur'd Europa from impending harms.
Fair honour, full fuccefs, and juft applause,
Pursued her marches, and adorn'd her cause ;
Whilft Gaul, afpiring to erect a throne
O'er other empires, trembled for her own;
Bemoan'd her cities won, her armies flain,
And funk the thought of universal reign.
When thus reduc'd the world's invaders lie,
The fears which rack'd the nations justly die :
Power finds its balance, giddy motions cease
In both the scales, and each inclines to peace.
This fair occafion Providence prepares,
To answer pious Anna's hourly prayers,
|