Classic Poem

Oh Lord, my God! omnipotent and wise,
To Thee I raise my supplicating eyes;
To Thee, with grateful heart, I bend my knee,
And in meek accents raise a prayer to Thee!—
Now, oh my Father, when all Nature's dawn
Proclaims the opening of another morn;
When the blest sun, in radiant glory bright,
Dispels the solemn stillness of the night;
When renovated nature smiles in joy,
And owns a God, who made not to destroy;
When ev'ry beast and bird combine to raise
Their various notes of gratitude and praise;
I, too, with voice sincere, though numbers weak
The mix'd emotions of my soul would speak;
I, too, my heart's best feelings would declare,
And tell the humble love I cherish there.

Oh Thou! whose bounteous spirit breathes around,
By all is felt,—through all the earth is found;
Whom neither ear hath heard, nor eye can see,
Enshrin'd in solemn, sacred mystery;
Who reign'st in glorious majesty above,
Known but in mercy, seen alone in love;
Pure is this breath of morn, but purer still
The heart that bends submissive to Thy will;
Sweet is this scene,—for, oh! whate'er I see
Speaks to my soul of holiness and Thee.
It tells me, that, though sinful, frail, and weak,
I yet may dare my gratitude to speak;
That, though my heart has bow'd at Mammon's shrine,
It still, in penitence , may sue at thine;
That, (oh! transcendent Mercy!) thou wilt hear,
And, hearing, grant a trembling suppliant's prayer.
That prayer, O God, will contrite strains prefer,
It begs for pardon, but it begs with fear ,
It sues for strength to follow and embrace
The purest doctrines of Thy boundless grace.
Give me a spirit form'd in virtue's mould,
Itself distrusting, for religion bold;
Pure as the zephyrs that around me blow,
Desiring, longing, all thy truth to know;
Waiting in hope the bright, the blissful day,
That breaks its fetters with this form of clay;
A heart with piety and kindness warm'd,
By pity soften'd, and by goodness charm'd;
Illumined by the Sun of truth and light,
Whose rays its beacon,—pure, unfading, bright.
—A mind unmoved by sorrow's ruthless blast,
Believing, hoping, trusting to the last;
Bending submissive to Thy chast'ning rod,
While praising all Thy goodness, O my God!
Firm and unshaken 'midst temptation's lure,
Strong to oppose, though patient to endure;
And if prosperity's enlivening ray
Shall gild the progress of my earthly way,
If in my path be strew'd life's choicest flowers,
And joy and pleasure mark the passing hours,—
On Thee—my Father, may it still rely,
Still dread the glance of Thine all-piercing eye;
May neither pride corrupt, nor vice ensnare,
Nor vain conceit e'er reign ungovern'd there.
And when my God, my Father, and my Friend,
My fleeting days approach their destined end,—
When earth and all its scenes shall fade away
Before the prospect of eternal day,—
When all its joys recede before my sight,
Then fix'd on regions of unchanging light,—
Oh! gently stay at last my passing breath,
And lead me calmly through the gates of death;
Then bid my 'raptured spirit soar on high,
To sing Hosannahs in its native sky;
And tune on golden harps its Maker's praise,
And songs of grateful love incessant raise.