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While thus his Wonders fpread around,
Let Ocean roufe the peaceful Deep,
Ye Shores, reverberate the Strain.
And fhall mute Animals that swim,
Ye Dragons, tune your noifome Breath,
In Song your forky Tongues employ.
Let Beafts their favage Lowing give,
From him they draw their fpringing Food:"
With the dread Monfters of the Wood.
Let Mountains with their Cedars bow,
Ye fev'ral People of this Frame,
Howe'er diftinguifh'd or disjoin'd,
And laud the Maker of Mankind.
To Him let Kings their Homage pay;
Bend low, as Subjects, at his Throne.
With the chafte Virgins tender Voice,
Let Years and Infancy engage.
To praife th' Eternal, the Divine,
The Words by Mr. ADDISON.
HEN rifing from the Bed of Death, O'erwhelm'd with Guilt and Fear, 1 fee my Maker Face to Face,
O how fhall
When thou, O LORD, fhalt ftand disclos'd,
And fit in Judgment on my Soul,
But thou hast told the troubled Mind,
And hear my SAVIOUR's dying Groans,
To give thofe Sorrows weight.
For never fhall my Soul despair
To make her Pardon fure.
Leave Mortality, and Things below;
A Whirlwind bears up my dull Feet,
Th' officious Clouds beneath them meet:
And lo! I mount, and lo!
How small the biggest Part of Earth's proud Title fhow!
Where fhall I find the noble British Land?
And feems a Grain o'th' Sand!
And is it this, alas, which we
I pafs by th' arched Magazins, which hold
Nor fhake with Fear, or Cold:
I meet Clouds charg'd with Thunder
Now into'a gentle Sea of rolling Flame
So great, fo pure, fo bright a Fire
My faithful Breast did cover,
Then, when I was of late a wretched mortal Lover.
Through fev'ral Orbs, which one fair Planet bear,
The Hints of Galileo's Glafs,
I toucht at laft the fpangled Sphere.
"Tis all fo bright and gay,
And the joint Eyes of Night make up a perfect Day.
Where am I now? Angels and GoD is here;
Swallows my Senfes quite,
And drowns all what, or how, or where.
The tyrannous Pleasure cou'd exprefs:
The mighty Elijah mounted fo on high,
That fecond Man, who leapt the Ditch, where all
And went not downwards to the Sky,
(As conqu'ring Kings in Triumph go), Did he to Heav'n approach;
And wondrous was his Way, and wondrous was his Coach.
"Twas gawdy all, and rich in ev'ry Part,
Drawn forth by chymick Angel's Art.
The Horfes were of temper'd Lightning made,
But fuch light folid ones as fhine
Thus mounted the great Prophet to the Skies.
Wondred from hence to fee one rife.