The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego, In adamantine chains shall Death be bound, Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms; Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise; And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods. Waste sandy vallies, once perplex'd with thorn, The spiry fir and shapely box adorn ; To leafless shrubs the flow'ring palms succeed, The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead, And boys in flow'ry bands the tiger lead; The steer and lion at one crib shall meet, And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet. The smiling infant in his hand shall take The crested basilisk and speckled snake, Pleas'd the green lustre of the scales survey, And with their forky tongue shall innocently play. Rise, crown'd with light, imperial Salem, rise! Exalt thy tow'ry head, and lift thy eyes! See a long race thy spacious courts adorn See future sons, and daughters yet unborn, In crouding ranks on ev'ry side arise, Demanding life, impatient for the skies! See barb'rous nations at thy gates attend, Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend; See thy bright altars throng'd with prostrate kings, And heap'd with products of Sabæan springs! For thee Idume's spicy forests blow, And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow. THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. [POPE.] FATHER of all! in ev'ry age, In ev'ry clime ador'd, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Thou great first cause, least understood; Who all my sense confin'd To know but this, that thou art good, Yet gave me, in this dark estate, And binding nature fast in fate, What conscience dictates to be done, This, teach me more than hell to shun, What blessings thy free bounty gives, For God is paid when man receives, Yet not to earth's contracted span Or think thee lord alone of man, When thousand worlds are round: VOL. III. Let not this weak unknowing hand And deal damnation round the land, If I am right, thy grace impart, Save me alike from foolish pride, At aught thy wisdom has deny'd, Teach me to feel another's woe, Mean tho' I am, not wholly so, Since quicken'd by thy breath; O lead me wheresoe'er I go, Thro' this day's life or death. This day, be bread and peace my lot: All else beneath the sun, |