There thou hast bid the globes of light

Their endless circles run;

There the pale planet rules the night,
And day obeys the fun.

PART II.

Downward I turn my wondering eyes

On clouds and ftorms below,
Thofe under-regions of the skies
Thy numerous glories fhow.

The noify winds ftand ready there
Thy orders to obey,

With founding wings they fweep the air,

To make thy chariot way.

There, like a trumpet, loud and strong,
Thy thunder shakes our coast:
While the red lightnings wave along,
The banners of thine hoft.

On the thin air, without a prop,
Hang fruitful fhowers around:
At thy command they fink, and drop
Their fatness on the ground.

PART III.

Now to the earth I bend my song,

And caft my eyes abroad,

Glancing the British ifles along;
Bleft ifles, confefs your God.

G 2

How

How did his wondrous skill array

Your fields in charming green;
A thousand herbs his art display,
A thousand flowers between !

Tall oaks for future navies grow,
Fair Albion's best defence,

While corn and vines rejoice below,
Thofe luxuries of fenfe.

The bleating flocks his pasture feeds

And herds of larger fize,

:

That bellow through the Lindian meads,
His bounteous hand supplies.

PART IV.

We fee the Thames carefs the fhores,
He guides her filver flood :
While angry Severn fwells and roars,
Yet hears her ruler God.

The rolling mountains of the deep
Obferve his ftrong command;
His breath can raife the billows steep,
Or fink them to the fand.

Amidst thy watery kingdoms, Lord,
The finny nations play,

And fcaly monfters, at thy word,
Rush through the northern fea.

PART

PART V.

Thy glories blaze all nature round,

And ftrike the gazing fight,

Through skies, and feas, and folid ground,

With terror and delight.

Infinite ftrength, and equal skill,

Shine through the worlds abroad, Our fouls with vaft amazement fill, And speak the builder God.

But the fweet beauties of thy grace

Our fofter paffions move;

Pity divine in Jefus face

We fee, adore, and love.

GOD's Abfolute Dominion.

LORD, when my thoughtful foul furveys

Fire, air, and earth, and ftars and feas, I call them all thy flaves;

Commiffion'd by my Father's will,

Poifons fhall cure, or balms fhall kill;

Vernal funs, or zephyr's breath,

May burn or blast the plants to death

That sharp December faves ;
What can winds or planets boast

But a precarious power?
The fun is all in darkness loft,
Froft fhall be fire, and fire be froft,

When he appoints the hour.

Lo, the Norwegians near the polar sky
Chafe their frozen limbs with fnow,
Their frozen limbs awake and glow,

The vital flame touch'd with a strange supply
Rekindles, for the God of life is nigh;

He bids the vital flood in wonted circles flow.
Cold fteel, expos'd to northern air,

Drinks the meridian fury of the midnight Bear,
And burns th' unwary ftranger there.

Enquire, my foul, of ancient fame,

Look back two thousand years, and fee
Th' Affyrian prince transform'd a brute,
For boafting to be abfolute :

1

Once to his court the God of Ifrael came,

A King more abfolute than he.

I fee the furnace blaze with rage
Sevenfold: I fee amidft the flame

Three Hebrews of immortal name:

They move, they walk across the burning ftage
Unhurt, and fearless, while the tyrant food
A ftatue; fear congeal'd his blood:
Nor did the raging element dare
Attempt their garments, or their hair :
It knew the Lord of nature there.

Nature, compell'd by a fuperior cause,
Now breaks her own eternal laws,
Now feems to break them, and obeys
Her fovereign king in different ways.
Father, how bright thy glories fhine!

How broad thy kingdom, how divine!

Nature, and miracle, and fate, and chance, are thine.

Hence

Hence from my heart, ye idols, flee,
Ye founding names of vanity!
No more my lips shall facrifice

To chance and nature, tales and lies:
Creatures without a God can yield me no fupplies.
What is the fun, or what the fhade,
Or frofts, or flames, to kill or fave?

His favour is my life, his lips pronounce me dead;
And as his awful dictates bid,

Earth is my mother, or my grave.

CONDESCENDING GRACE.

In Imitation of the cxivth Pfalm.

WHEN the Eternal bows the skies,

To vifit earthly things,

With fcorn divine he turns his eyes

From towers of haughty kings;

Rides on a cloud difdainful by
A Sultan, or a Czar,

Laughs at the worms that rife fo high,
Or frowns them from afar;

He bids his awful chariot roll
Far downward from the kies,

To vifit every humble foul,

With pleasure in his eyes.

Why fhould the Lord that reigns above

Difdain fo lofty kings?

Say, Lord, and why fuch looks of love

Upon fuch worthlefs things?