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HESE, as they change, Almighty Father, these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love. Wide Aluth the fields; the softning air is balm; $ Echo the mountains round; the forests (miles; And every sense, and every heart is jvy. Then comes thy glory in the Summer-months, With light and heat refulgent. Then thy fun Shoots full perfection chro' the swelling year : io And oft thy vo ce in dreadful thunder speaks ; And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow whispering gales. Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd, And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
15 In Winter awful Thou! with clouds and storms Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest rolld, Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind's wing, Riding sublime, Thou bidit the world adore, And humblert Nature with thy northern blast.
Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine, Deep.felt, in these appear! a simple train, Yet fu delightful mix'd, with such kind art, Such beauty and beneficence combin'd;
Shade, unperceiv'd, fo foftening into fhade; 25
And all so forming an harmonious whole;
That, as they ftill succeed, they ravish Still.
But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze,
Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand,
That, ever busy, wheels the filent spheres ; 30
Works in the secret deep, thoots Reaming thence
The fair profufion that o'erspreads the Spring;
Flings from the sun direct the faming day;
Feeds every creature; huris the tempest forth;
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, 35 -
With transport touches all the springs of life.
Nature, attend ! join every living soul,
Beneath the spacious remple of the sky,
In adoration join ; and, ardent raise
One general fong! To him ye vocal gales,
Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your treshness breathes:
Oh talk of Him in solitary glooms;
Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine
Fills the brown hade with a religious awe.
And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar,
Who Thake the astonith'd world, lift high to heaven
Th' impetuous fong, and say from whom yoù rage,
His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills;
And let me catch it as I muse along,
Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound; 50
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou, majestic maini,
A secret world of wonders in thyself,
Sound his ftupendous praise ! whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. 55
Soft-roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him; whose fun exalts,
Whore breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints.
Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave, to Him;
Breathe your fill song into the reaper's heart, 60
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth alleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildelt beams,
Ye-constellations, while your angels strike,
Amid the spangled sky, the filver lyre.
Great source of day! best image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, 2
From world to world, the vital ocean round,
On Nature write with every beam His praise.
The thunder rolls : be huth'd the prostrate world ;
While cloud to cloud returns the folema hymn. 78
Bleat out afresh' ye hills : ye mofly rocks,
Retain the sound: the broad responsive lowe,
Ye valleys raise; for the Great Shepherd reigns ;
And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless song
Burst from the groves ! and when the restless day, 13 Expiring, lays the warbling world alleep,
Sweetest of birds ! sweet Philomela, charm
The listening thades, and teach the night His praise,
Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles; 81
At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn! in swarming cities vaft,
Assembled men, to the deep organ join
The long resounding voice, oft breaking clear,
Ac folemn pauses, through the swelling base;
And, as each minglingflame encreases cach,
4 In one united ardor rise to heaven,
Or if you rather chuse the rural shade, Liri And find a fane in every sacred grove; i There let the shepherd's Aute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre, 9 Still fing the God of Seasons, as they roll.
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray
Ruffets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams;
Or winter rises in the blackening east;
Be my tongue mate, my fancy paint no more, diners And,'dead to joy forget my heart to beat!
Should fate command me to the fartheft verge 100
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam
Flames on th' Atlantic isles ; 'tis nought to me:
Since God is ever present, ever felt,
105 In the void walte as in the city full; And where He vital spreads there must be joy. When even at last the foler.n hour shall come,
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds,
I chearful will obey ; there, with new powers, 110
Will rising wonders fing: I cannot go
Where Universal Love not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs and all their fons;
From seeming Evil ftill educing Good,
And Better thence again, and Better fill,
In infinite progreffion.
Myself in Him, in Light ineffable!
Come chenj expressive filence, muse his praise.