Classic Poem

AN ODE .

What active pow'r is this within,
That struggles to arise,
In search of never-ending bliss,
Above yon sparkling skies?

'Tis Christian Hope, by Faith impell'd
Sustain'd by heav'nly Grace,
That animates my mournful soul,
And shews the Saviour's face.

Faith throws yon azure skreen aside,
And gives a glimpse of Heav'n;
Hope whispers to my anxious heart,
That ev'ry sin's forgiv'n.

O! can such mercy be bestow'd
On wretches such as I?
Yes — for our sins, the Son of God,
Our Saviour, Lord, did die.

The sons of light, rejoicing, sing
Our dear Redeemer's praise;
And shall not we, for whom he bled,
Our grateful anthems raise?

Hosanna to the Christ of God!
All glory to our King!
Praise to his name, whose saving pow'r
Our souls to Heav'n shall bring!