Classic Poem

Great Maker of man's earthly realm,
Who didst the ground from waters take,
Which did the troubled land o'rewhelm,
And it unmoveable didst make,

That there young plants might fitly spring,
While it with golden flowers attir'd
Might forth ripe fruit in plenty bring,
And yield sweet fruit by all desir'd;

With fragrant greenness of thy grace,
Our blasted souls of wounds release,
That tears foul sins away may chase,
And in the mind bad motions cease:

May it obey thy heavenly voice,
And never drawing near to ill,
T' abound in goodness may rejoyce,
And may no mortal sin fulfil.

Dear Father, grant what we intreat,
And only Son who like power hast,
Together with the Paraclete,
Reigning whilst times and ages last.

O holy God of heavenly frame,
Who mak'st the pole's high center bright,
And paint'st the same with shining flames,
Adorning it with beauteous light;

Who framing on the fourth of days
The fiery chariot of the sun,
Appoint'st the moon her changing rays,
And orbs in which the planets run,

That thou might'st by a certain bound,
'Twixt night and day division make,
And that some sure sign might be found
To shew when months beginning take;

Mens' hearts with lightsome splendor bless,
Wipe from their minds polluting spots,
Dissolve the bond of guiltiness;
Throw down the heaps of sinful blots.

Dear Father, grant what we intreat,
And only Son who like power hast,
Together with the Paraclete,
Reigning whilst times and ages last.