THE SONG OF HEAVEN.
HARPS of eternity! begin the song; Redeem'd and angel harps! begin to God- Begin the anthem, ever sweet and new, While I extol Him, holy, just, and good, Life, beauty, light, intelligence, and love! Eternal, uncreated, infinite!
Unsearchable Jehovah; God of truth! Maker, upholder, governor of all: Thyself unmade, ungovern'd, unupheld. Omnipotent, unchangeable, great God! Exhaustless fulness! giving unimpair'd! Bounding immensity, unspread, unbound! Highest and best! beginning, middle, end. All seeing Eye! all seeing, and unseen! Hearing, unheard! all knowing, and unknown! Above all praise! above all height of thought! Proprietor of immortality!
Glory ineffable! Bliss underived!
Of old thou built'st thy throne on righteousness, Before the morning stars their song began,
Or silence heard the voice of praise. Thou laid'st Eternity's foundation stone, and saw'st
Life and existence out of Thee begin. Mysterious more, the more display'd, where still Upon thy glorious throne thou sitt'st alone: Hast sat alone; and shall for ever sit
Alone-invisible, immortal One!
Behind, essential brightness unbeheld.
Incomprehensible! What weight shall weigh? What measure measure Thee? What know we
Of Thee? what need to know, than Thou hast
And bidd'st us still repeat, at morn and even ? God! everlasting Father! holy One!
Our God, our Father, our eternal All :
Source whence we came, and whither we return; Who made our spirits, who our bodies made; Who made the heaven, who made the flowery land; Who made all made; who orders, governs all; Who walks upon the wind; who holds the wave In hollow of thy hand; whom thunders wait; Whom tempests serve; whom flaming fires obey; Who guides the circuit of the endless years: Sittest on high, and mak'st creation's top Thy footstool; and behold'st below Thee, all- All nought, all less than nought, and vanity. Like transient dust that hovers on the scale, Ten thousand worlds are scatter'd in thy breath. Thou sitt'st on high, and measurest destinies, And days, and months, and wide revolving years: And dost according to thy holy will;
And none can stay thy hand; and none withhold Thy glory; for in judgment, Thou, as well As mercy, art exalted; day and night,
Past, present, future, magnify thy name:
Thy works all praise Thee; all thy angels praise : Thy saints adore, and on thy altars burn
The fragrant incense of perpetual love:
They praise Thee now; their hearts, their voices,
And swell the rapture of the glorious song.
Harp! lift thy voice on high! shout, angels, shout! And loudest ye redeemed! glory to God,
And to the Lamb, who bought us with his blood,
THE MUTABILITY OF ALL THINGS.
From every kindred, nation, people, tongue, And wash'd and sanctified our souls:
And gave us robes of linen pure, and crowns Of life, and made us kings and priests to God. Shout back to ancient Time! Sing loud, and wave Your palms of triumph! Sing, Where is thy sting, O Death? where is thy victory, O Grave? Thanks be to God, eternal thanks, who gave Us victory through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Harp, lift thy voice on high! shout, angels, shout! And loudest, ye redeemed! glory to God, And to the Lamb-all glory, and all praise; All glory and all praise, at morn and even, That come and go eternally, and find Us happy still, and Thee for ever blest. Glory to God, and to the Lamb. Amen. For ever, and for evermore. Amen.
THE MUTABILITY OF ALL THINGS.
All that the universe contains, the Earth,
Her sons, the heavens, and all their host; A law of universal mutability;
A spirit of declension and decay,
Waging eternal war.
Breed the destroying worm. The strongest bend, The stern oak falls without the axe's stroke, The iron bar corrodes, the gauntlet rusts, The diadem and sceptre come to nought; And all things 'neath the canopy of heaven The impress bear of change, that seems to say
THE MUTABILITY OF ALL THINGS.
That they shall have an end. Sweet nature hath A face that smiles upon us: morning, noon, Have each their fascinations; and the soft And tender glance of evening, when the daylight Sinks into rosy slumber in the West,
Hath sure a charm that reaches to the heart, And human nature welcomes; yet we look Upon the budding floweret with a sigh, For it must fade; we cast our eyes above To heaven's unfreckled azure, where the sun Moves onward in sublime array of light, And the innumerable multitudes
Of sparkling centres to surrounding worlds, Exhilarate in ever boundless joy; And would expatiate in joy as high, But Death's dark shadow passes over us,
And Time's heart-chilling pinion fluttering by,
Strikes out the transient blaze that flashes from The striving spirit, leaving the poor mind Aghast in its imaginings, and dark
And cheerless as the grave: for all shall pass Like unreal phantoms into nothingness;
The burning sun,-the stars,—the gaudy world,- All, all, shall flee away!-And what is man, That he should look on them? and what is life? A breath, a sound,-whose sullen echo, Death, Beats at the heart eternally: a mist,
A murky vapour of corrupting earth, In which the spirit dances strangely, like A fen-fire, wandering giddy and alone : Yet not so lonely, Lord, when led by Thee; For Thou, Eternal Father, it is Thou Canst turn this gloom to glory;—it is Thou That art the holy resting-place, the ark
To which the dove-like spirit, wearied of Terrestrial tumults, turns with heavenly hope: Thy spirit mingles with man's spirit in Its high desires, and holy aspirations, And lifts it into ecstasy, though clogg'd
With mortal clay, and parch'd with the strange heat Of life's incessant fevers.
Turn thou in glorious cheer, oh, soul of man; Be full of his pure brightness, full of hope, And full of faith, and joy, and inward love: Then may the battling elements rage on, And wild convulsions rack the womb of earth, And storm and tempest triumph, 'mid the shouts Of their ten thousand thunders-Thou wilt be Still CALM.
THE Christian looks upon the world's fierce din, And its rude tumults, as one standing on Some lofty mountain, at whose sturdy base The white foam dashes, or midway the clouds Of tempest gather, and stands firm, secure In his proud elevation. He looks up To heaven so calm, and pure, and beautiful; And mirrors his own soul as in a glass. He looks below, but not contemptuously; For there he sees reflections of himself, As a poor child of nature; and he feels A touch of kindred brotherhood, and pants
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