1

While thus his Wonders spread around,
Let the Seas add their watry Noise;
Ye Whales, alarm the dark Profound;
Ye finny Nations take a Voice.

Let Ocean rouse the peaceful Deep,
Loud bell'wing through his large Domain:
Ye Surges, break your idle Sleep;
Ye Shores, reverberate the Strain.

:

And shall mute Animals that swim,
Nor thou, O Earth, his Worth declare ?
O! pay thy just Devoirs to him;
He made thy pond'rous Ball cohere.

Ye Dragons, tune your noisome Breath,
From dreadful Hissings into Joy :
Ye scaly Ministers of Death,

In Song your forky Tongues employ.

Let Beasts their savage Lowing give,
From him they draw their springing Food:
Let Wolves in Emulation strive,

With the dread Monsters of the Wood.

Let Mountains with their Cedars bow,

Ye prostrate Vallies, higher rife:
Let Oaks bend down in Rev'rence low,
Ye Shrubs mount upward to the Skies.

Ye sev'ral People of this Frame,
Howe'er diftinguish'd or disjoin'd,
Confpire to celebrate his Name,
And laud the Maker of Mankind.

;

To Him let Kings their Homage pay;
Their Pow'r, compar'd with his, is none:
Ye Monarchs, great in earthly Sway,
Bend low, as Subjects, at his Throne.

With the chafte Virgins tender Voice,
Appear, O Youth, in Bloom of Age;
In feebler Plaudits to rejoice,
Let Years and Infancy engage.

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To

To praise th' Eternal, the Divine,
Far, far be impious Discord hurl'd;

Let all his Works in Confort join,
And with the gen'ral Chorus fill the World.

WHEN rifing from the Bed of Death,
O'erwhelm'd with Guilt and Fear,

1 see my Maker Face to Face,

O how shall I appear!

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1.

When thou, O LORD, shalt stand disclos'd,

In Majesty severe,

And fit in Judgment on my Soul,

O how shall I appear!

IV.

But thou hast told the troubled Mind,

Who does her Sins lament,

The timely Tribute of her Tears,

Shall endless Woe prevent.

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A

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Then

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Then see the Sorrow of my Heart,
E'er yet it be too late;

And hear my SAVIOUR's dying Groans,

To give those Sorrows weight:
Those Sorrows,

To give those Sorrows weight.

For never shall my Soul despair

Her Pardon to procure,
Who knows thine only Son has dy'd,
To make her Pardon sure :

Her Pardon,

To make her Pardon sure.

I

The ECSTACY.

I.

Leave Mortality, and Things below;
I have no Time in Compliments to waste,
Farewel to all ye in hafte,

For I am call'd to go;

A Whirlwind bears up my dull Feet,

Th' officious Clouds beneath them meet :
And lo! I mount, and lo! -

How small the biggest Part of Earth's proud Title show!

II.

Where shall I find the noble British Land?
Lo, I at last a Northern Speck espy,
Which in the Sea does lie,
And feems a Grain o'th' Sand!
For this, will any fin, or bleed ?
Of Civil Wars is this the Meed ?
And is it this, alas, which we
(Oh Irony of Words!) do call Great Britany!

III.

I pass by th' arched Magazins, which hold
Th' eternal Stores of Frost, and Rain, and Snow;

Dry and fecure I go,

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Nor shake with Fear, or Cold :

Without Affright or Wonder,

I meet Clouds charg'd with Thunder;
And Lightnings in my Way,

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Like harmless lambent Fires about my Temples play.

Now into'a gentle Sea of rolling Flame
I'm plung'd, and still mount higher there,
As Flames mount up through Air :
So perfect, yet so tame,

So great, fo pure, so bright a Fire

Was that unfortunate Defire,

My faithful Breast did cover,

Then, when I was of late a wretched mortal Lover.

V.

Through fev'ral Orbs, which one fair Planet bear,

Where I behold distinctly as I pass

The Hints of Galileo's Glass,

I toucht at last the spangled Sphere.

Here all th' extended Sky

Is but one Galaxy;

"Tis all fo bright and gay,

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:

And the joint Eyes of Night make up a perfect Day.

VI.

Where am I now? Angels and Gon is here;
An unexhausted Ocean of Delight

Swallows my Senfes quite,

And drowns all what, or how, or where.

Not Paul, who first did thither pass,
And this great World's Columbus was,

The tyrannous Pleasure cou'd exprefs :

Oh 'tis too much for Man! but let it ne'er be less.

VII.

The mighty Elijah mounted so on high,
That fecond Man, who leapt the Ditch, where all

The rest of Mankind fall,

And went not downwards to the Sky,

With much of Pomp and Show

(As conqu'ring Kings in Triumph go)

Did he to Heav'n approach;

And wondrous was his Way, and wondrous was his Coach.

VIII.

'Twas gawdy all, and rich in ev'ry Part,
Of Effences, of Gems, and Spirit of Gold,
Was its substantial Mold;
Drawn forth by chymick Angel's Art.
Here with Moon-beams 'twas filver'd bright,
The double Gilt with the Sun's Light;
And mystick Shapes cut round in it,
Figures that did transcend a vulgar Angel's Wit.

The Horses were of temper'd Lightning made,
Of all that in Heav'n's beauteous Pastures fed
The noblest, sprightful'st Breed;
And flaming Mains their Necks array'd.
They all were shod with Diamond,
Not fuch as here are found,

But fuch light folid ones as shine
On the transparent Rocks o'th' Heaven crystalline.

X.

Thus mounted the great Prophet to the Skies.
Aftonisht Men, who oft had seen Stars fall,
Or that which so they call,
Wondred from hence to fee one rife.
The foft Clouds melted him a Way,
The Snow and Frosts which in it lay

Awhile the facred Footsteps bore,
The Wheels and Horses Hoofs hist as they past them o'er.