44
Where sympathy's seraphic tenderness,
In silence feels what words can ne'er express;—
Where reason reigns, approved by spotless truth,
And virtue blossoms in immortal youth;—
Caution, discretion, and forbearance still,
Dwell in each action and direct the will;
While meekness bows beneath oppression's load,
And resignation owns its Sovereign God.
There blest Religion, with celestial love,
And faith divine, transports the soul above;
And glows expanded in that holy breast,
Whose prayer imploring pleads for the distressed,
For mercy's sovereign power to melt the soul,
And Gilead's balm to make the sufferer whole:
For blind and wretched, guilty and undone,
The fervent prayer ascends to the high throne
Of the Supremely Good, whose mercy saves
The bold offender, and the wretch forgives;
While humble thanks and ardent praises rise,
An incense-offering to the opening skies.
O that the humble tribute of a verse
Might these dear treasures of the soul rehearse.
But far, too far inferior, dare I dream
To ope the beauties of the sacred theme?
For half concealed from human view they lie;—
But, scanned with approbation from on high,
The Power Supreme looks gently from above,
And fills the spirit with celestial love;
Encircles in a Father's kind embrace,
And wraps in the Redeemer's righteousness.
In silence feels what words can ne'er express;—
Where reason reigns, approved by spotless truth,
And virtue blossoms in immortal youth;—
Caution, discretion, and forbearance still,
Dwell in each action and direct the will;
While meekness bows beneath oppression's load,
And resignation owns its Sovereign God.
There blest Religion, with celestial love,
And faith divine, transports the soul above;
And glows expanded in that holy breast,
Whose prayer imploring pleads for the distressed,
For mercy's sovereign power to melt the soul,
And Gilead's balm to make the sufferer whole:
For blind and wretched, guilty and undone,
The fervent prayer ascends to the high throne
Of the Supremely Good, whose mercy saves
The bold offender, and the wretch forgives;
While humble thanks and ardent praises rise,
An incense-offering to the opening skies.
O that the humble tribute of a verse
Might these dear treasures of the soul rehearse.
But far, too far inferior, dare I dream
To ope the beauties of the sacred theme?
For half concealed from human view they lie;—
But, scanned with approbation from on high,
The Power Supreme looks gently from above,
And fills the spirit with celestial love;
Encircles in a Father's kind embrace,
And wraps in the Redeemer's righteousness.
