PSALM CIV. imitated by THOMAS
BLACKCLOCK.
Ariſe my ſoul! on wings ſeraphic riſe!
And praiſe th’ Almighty ſov’reign of the ſkies!
In whom alone eſſential glory ſhines,
Which not the Heav’n of Heav’ns, nor boundleſs ſpace confines!
When darkneſs rul’d with univerſal ſway,
He ſpoke, and kindled up the blaze of day;
Firſt faireſt offspring of th’ omnific word!
Which like a garment cloath’d it’s ſovereign lord.
He ſtretch’d the blue expanſe, from pole to pole,
And ſpread circumfluent æther round the whole.
Of liquid air he bad the columns riſe,
Which prop the ſtarry concave of the ſkies.
Soon as he bids, impetuous whirlwinds fly,
To bear his founding chariot thro’ the ſky:
Impetuous whirlwinds the command obey,
Suſtain his flight, and ſweep th’ aerial way.
Fraught with his mandates from the realms on high,
Unnumber’d hoſts of radiant heralds fly;
From orb to orb, with progreſs unconfin’d,
As lightn’ing ſwift, reſiſtleſs as the wind.
His word in air, this pondr’ous ball ſuſtain’d.
“Be fixt, he ſaid.”—And fix’d the ball remain’d.
Heav’n, air, and ſea, tho’ all their ſtores combine,
Shake not its baſe, nor break the law Divine.
At thy almighty voice, old ocean raves.
Wakes all his force, and gathers all his waves;
Nature lies mantled in a watry robe,
And ſhoreleſs ocean rolls around the globe;
O’er higheſt hills, the higher ſurges riſe,
Mix with the clouds, and leave the vaulted ſkies.
But when in thunder, the rebuke was giv’n,
That ſhook th’ eternal firmament of heav’n.
