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AN ØDE FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY. Addison.
a streak of lightning clears the day,
nor made his amorous complaint:
6 And now the choir compleat rejoices,
till, wafted by a gentle breeze,
1 The spacious firmament on high,
and spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Th' unweary'd sun, from day to day, does his Creator's power display; and publishes, to every land, the work of an Almighty hand. 2 Soon as the evening shades prevail, the moon takes up the wonderous tale; and nightly, to the listening earth, repeats the story of her birth:
whilst all the stars that round her burn, and all the planets, in their turn, confirm the tidings as they roll, and spread the truth from pole to pole. 3 What tho', in solemn silence, all move round the dark terrestrial ball; what tho', no real voice, nor sound, amidst their radiant orbs be found: in Reason's ear they all rejoice, and utter forth a glorious voice; for ever singing as they shine, the hand that made us is divine.
1 When all thy mercies, O my God,
transported with the view, I'm lost
2 O how shall words with equal warmth the gratitude declare,
that glows within my ravish'd heart!
3 Thy Providence my life sustain'd,
4 To all my weak complaints and cries,
ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt to form themselves in prayer.
5 Unnumber'd comforts to my soul thy tender care bestow'd, before my infant heart conceiv'd
from whence these comforts flow'd. 6 When in the slippery paths of youth with heedless steps I ran,
thine arm unseen convey'd me safe,
7 Through hidden dangers, toils, and death, it gently clear'd my way;
and through the pleasing snares of vice,
8 When worn with sickness, oft hast thou
9 Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss
and in a kind and faithful friend hast doubled all my store.
10 Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
12 When Nature fails, and day and night
my ever-grateful heart, O Lord,
13 Through all eternity to thee,
1 How are thy servants blest, O Lord!
2 In foreign realms, and lands remote,
through burning climes I pass'd unhurt,
3 Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil,
4 Think, O my soul, devoutly think,
thou saw'st the wide-extended deep,
in all i'ts horrors rise..
5 Confusion dwelt in every face,
and fear in every heart;
when waves on waves, and gulphs on gulphs, o'ercame the pilot's art.
6 Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
whilst, in the confidence of prayer,
7 For tho' in dreadful whirls we hung
I knew thou wert not slow to hear,
8 The storm was laid, the winds retir'd,
the sea, that roar'd at thy command,
9 In midst of dangers, fears, and death,
and praise thee for thy mercies past,
10 My life, if thou preserv'st my life,
and death, if death must be my doom,
1 When rising from the bed of death,
I see my Maker face to face;