Hymn I.


The glorious armies of the sky

To thee, O mighty King!

Triumphant anthems consecrate,

And hallelujahs sing.


But still their most exalted flights

Fall vastly short of thee:

How distant then must human praise

From thy perfections be!


Yet how, my God, shall I refrain,

When to my ravish’d sense

Each creature in its various ways

Displays thy excellence?


The active lights that shine above,

In their eternal dance,

Reveal their skilful Maker’s praise,

With silent elegance.


The blushes of the morn confess

That thou art much more fair:

When in the east its beams revive

To gild the fields of air;


The fragrant, the refreshing breath

Of ev’ry flow’ry bloom,

In balmy whispers owns from thee

In pleasing odours come.


The singing birds, the warbling winds,

And waters murm’ring fall,

To praise the first almighty cause

With diff’rent voices call.


Thy num’rous works exalt thee thus,

And shall I silent be?

No, rather let me cease to breathe,

Than cease from praising thee.

ext: Poems on Several Occasions (London: E. Dudley [and seven others], 1778), pp. 73-74.