What can winds or planets boast

But a precarious power?

The sun is all in darkness lost,

Frost shall be fire, and fire be frost,
When he appoints the hour.

Lo! the Norwegians, near the polar sky,
Chafe their frozen limbs with snow;

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 blood in wonted circles flow. Cold steel, expos'd to northern air,

Drinks the meridian fury of the midnight Bear,
And burns the unwary stranger there.
Inquire, my soul, of ancient fame,

Look back two thousand years, and see
The Assyrian prince transform'd a brute,
For boasting to be absolute:

Once to his court the God of Israel came,
A king more absolute than he.

I see the furnace blaze with rage Sevenfold I see amidst the flame Three Hebrews of immortal name : They move, they walk across the burning stage Unhurt, and fearless, while the tyrant stood A statue; 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 superior cause, Now breaks her own eternal laws, Now seems to break them, and obeys Her sovereign King in different ways. Father, how bright thy glories shine! How broad thy kingdom, how divine! Nature, and miracle, and fate, and chance, are thine. Hence from my heart, ye idols, flee, Ye sounding names of vanity: No more my lips shall sacrifice

To chance and nature, tales and lies:
Creatures without a God can yield me no supplies.
What is the sun, or what the shade,
Or frosts, or flames, to kill or save?

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 PSALM CXIV.

WHEN the Eternal bows the skies,
To visit earthly things,

With scorn divine he turns his eyes

From towers of haughty kings;

Rides on a cloud disdainful by

A sultan or a czar,

Laughs at the worms that rise so high,
Or frowns 'em from afar:

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

To visit every humble soul,
With pleasure in his eyes.

Why should the Lord, that reigns above,
Disdain so lofty kings?

Say, Lord, and why such looks of love
Upon such worthless things?

Mortals, be dumb; what creature dares

Dispute his awful will;

Ask no account of his affairs,

But tremble and be still.

Just like his nature is his grace,

All sov'reign, and all free;

Great God! how searchless are thy ways! How deep thy judgments be!

THE INFINITE.

SOME seraph, lend your heavenly tongue,

Or harp of golden string, That I may raise a lofty song

To our eternal King.

Thy names, how infinite they be !
Great Everlasting One!
Boundless thy might and majesty,
And unconfin'd thy throne.

Thy glories shine of wond'rous size,
And wond'rous large thy grace;
Immortal day breaks from thine eyes,
And Gabriel veils his face.

Thine essence is a vast abyss,
Which angels cannot sound,

An ocean of infinities,

Where all our thoughts are drown'd.

The mysteries of creation lie

Beneath enlighten'd minds;

Thoughts can ascend above the sky,

And fly before the winds;

hills,

Reason may grasp the massy
And stretch from pole to pole,
But half thy name our spirit fills,
And overloads our soul.

In vain our haughty reason swells,
For nothing's found in Thee
But boundless unconceivables,
And vast eternity.

CONFESSION AND PARDON.

ALAS, my aching heart!

Here the keen torment lies;

It racks my waking hours with smart, And frights my slumb'ring eyes.

Guilt will be hid no more,
My griefs take vent apace,

The crimes that blot my conscience o'er

Flush crimson in my face.

My sorrows, like a flood, Impatient of restraint, Into thy bosom, O my God,

Pour out a long complaint.