"The Spacious Firmament on High"

It tells the conqueror

That far-stretched power,

Which his proud dangers traffic for,
Is but the triumph of an hour;

That from the farthest North,
Some nation may,

Yet undiscovered, issue forth,

And o'er his new-got conquest sway:

Some nation yet shut in

With hills of ice

May be let out to scourge his sin,
Till they shall equal him in vice.

And then they likewise shall
Their ruin have;

For as yourselves your empires fall,
And every kingdom hath a grave.

Thus those celestial fires,

Though seeming mute,

The fallacy of our desires

And all the pride of life confute:

For they have watched since first
The world had birth;

And found sin in itself accurst,

And nothing permanent on earth.

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William Habington [1605-1654]

"THE SPACIOUS FIRMAMENT ON HIGH"

From "The Spectator," No. 465

THE spacious firmament on high,

With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled heavens, a shining frame,

Their great Original proclaim.

The unwearied Sun, from day to day,

Does his Creator's power display;

And publishes to every land

The work of an Almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The Moon takes up the wondrous tale;
And nightly to the listening Earth
Repeats the story of her birth:

Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll

And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though, in solemn silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball?
What though nor real voice nor sound
Amidst their radiant orbs be found?
In Reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice;
For ever singing as they shine,

"The Hand that made us is divine."

Joseph Addison [1672–1719]

UNIVERSAL PRAYER

DEO. OPT. MAX.

FATHER of all! in every age,

In every clime adored,

By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou Great First Cause, least understood,

Who all my sense confined

To know but this, that Thou art good,
And that myself am blind;

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill;
And, binding nature fast in fate,

Left free the human will.

What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do,

This, teach me more than hell to shun, That, more than heaven pursue.

What blessings Thy free bounty gives
Let me not cast away;

For God is paid when man receives,
To enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth's contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound,

Or think Thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round:

Let not this weak, unknowing hand
Presume Thy bolts to throw
And deal damnation round the land
On each I judge Thy foe.

If I am right, Thy grace impart
Still in the right to stay;

If I am wrong, O, teach my heart
To find that better way!

Save me alike from foolish pride
And impious discontent

At aught Thy wisdom has denied,
Or aught Thy goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another's woc,
To hide the fault I see;
That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.

Mean though I am, not wholly so,
Since quickened by Thy breath;
O, lead me, whereso'er I go,

Through this day's life or death!

This day be bread and peace my lot;

All else beneath the sun,

Thou know'st if best bestowed or not,
And let Thy will be done.

To Thee, whose temple is all space,
Whose altar earth, sea, skies,
One chorus let all Being raise,

All Nature's incense rise!

Alexander Pope [1688-1744]

"O GOD! OUR HELP IN AGES PAST"

O GOD! our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,

And our eternal home!

Under the shadow of Thy Throne

Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is Thine arm alone,
And our defense is sure.

Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her fame,
From everlasting Thou art God,
To endless years the same.

A thousand ages in Thy sight

Are like an evening gone;

Short as the watch that ends the night

Before the rising sun.

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,

Bears all its sons away;

They fly, forgotten, as a dream

Dies at the opening day.

O God! our help in ages past,

Our hope for years to come,

Be Thou our guide when troubles last,

And our eternal home!

Isaac Watts [1674-1748]

"Jesus, Lover of My Soul"

"JESUS, LOVER OF MY SOUL"

JESUS lover of my soul,

Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high!
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,
Oh receive my soul at last!

Other refuge have I none,

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me!
All my trust on Thee is stayed,
All my help from Thee I bring;
Cover my defenseless head

With the shadow of Thy wing.

Wilt thou not regard my call?
Wilt thou not accept my prayer??

Lo! I sink, I faint, I fall,—

Lo! on Thee I cast my care;

Reach me out Thy gracious hand,
While I of Thy strength receive!
Hoping against hope I stand,-
Dying, and behold I live!

Thou, O Christ, art all I want;
More than all in Thee I find:

Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,
Heal the sick, and lead the blind!
Just and holy is Thy Name;

I am all unrighteousness;

False and full of sin I am,

Thou art full of truth and grace.

Plenteous grace with Thee is found,-
Grace to cover all my sin;

Let the healing streams abound,

Make and keep me pure within:—

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