Classic Poem

SOLILOQUY XXVIII.

O thou whose wisdom leads the countless stars
In constant order thro' their shining course,
And sets the blazing sun his annual race!
All nature owns thy law; the raging winds,
And foaming billows in their swelling pride
Reluctant sink at thy commanding voice.

But I with prostrate homage at thy feet
Devote my will obsequious to thy sway.
I have no choice, no conduct, no design,
No wav'ring wish that I can call my own;
For I am wholly, absolutely thine:
And as the potter turns the ductile clay
Am I in thy almighty forming hands.
O thou can'st mould and fashion ev'ry thought,
My passions turn, and make me what thou wilt:
Thy hand can trace the characters divine,
And stamp celestial beauty on my soul.

Creating Spirit, speak the potent word,
Let there be light! and cloudless day will rise:
Dispel the clouds of ignorance and sin,
Banish whate'er opposes thy designs
Of love and grace, freely work thy will.

Conform'd to thee, the harmony divine,
My soul would find the most exalted bliss.
Were there no future hell, no penalties
To guard thy righteous laws; were there no heav'n,
No sparkling crowns to recompence the just;
Yet would my thoughts approve thy pure commands,
And find exalted pleasure in the rules
Thy sacred word enjoins. Could I but reach
The rectitude I wish, in serving thee
I meet a full reward, and gain the first,
The great design for which I had a being:
I breath'd at thy command; and 'tis the boast,
The glory of my life, to live for thee.