Classic Poem

Methinks I spy Almighty holding in
His hand the crystal sky and sun in't bright:
As candle and bright lantern lightening
The world with this bright lantern's flaming light,
Endungeoning all darkness underground,
Making all sunshine day heavenward abound.

The spiritual world this world doth, Lord, outvie;
Its sky this crystal lantern doth o'ermatch.
Its sun Thou art, that in'ts bright canopy
Outshines that candle darkness doth dispatch.
Thy crystal globe of glorious sunshine furled,
Light, life and heat in't Sundayeth the world.

The world without the sun's as dungeon dark.
The sun without its light would dungeons spring.
The moon and stars are but as chilly sparks
Of dying fire. The sun cheers ery thing.
But oh Thy light, lightsome, delightsome, falls
Upon the soul above all cordials.

All light delights. Yet dozed wood-light is cold.
Some light hath heat yet darkness doth it bound,
As lamp and glowworm light. The stars do hold
A twinkling lifeless light. The sun is found
A ball of light, of life, warmth to nature's race.
But Thou'rt that sun that shines out saving grace.

Dozed wood-light is but glimmer, with no smoke.
And candle light's a smoky lifeless thing.
The light lodged in the glowworm's petticoat
Is but a show. Starlight's night's twinkling.
Moonlight is nightish; sun makes day; these all
Without our visive organs lightless fall.

But Thou, my Lord, no dozed wood-shine art.
No smoky candle light rose from Thy wick.
Thy light ne'er lined the glowworm's velvet part.
Thy shine makes stars, moons, sunlight darkness thick.
Thou art the sun of heaven's bright light rose in
The heavenly orbs. And heaven's blest glories' spring.

Were all the trees on earth fired torches made,
And all her grass, wax candles set on flame,
This light could not make day, this lightsome trade
Would be a darksome smoke when sun shines plain.
But Thy shine, Lord, darkens this sunshine bright,
And makes the seeing organ, and its light.

Within the horizontal hemisphere
Of this blest sun, Lord, let me mansion have.
Make day, Thou shining sun, unto me clear,
Thy sorry servant earnestly doth crave.
Let not the moon e'er intervene or fix
Between me and this sun to make eclipse.

O bright, bright day! Lord, let this sunshine flow.
Drive hence my sin and darkness, great, profound,
And up them coffin in earth's shade below
In darkness gross, on th'other side the ground.
Ne'er let the soil spew fogs to foil the light
Of this sweet air pregnant with sunbeams bright.

How shall my soul (such thoughts enravish me)
Under the canopy of this bright day
Imparadised, lightened and livened be,
Bathed in this sunshine 'mong bright angels play,
And with them strive in sweetest tunes expressed
Which can Thy glorious praises sing out best.