SONG

OF THE THREE CHILDREN

(MERRICK.)

Ye works of God, on him alone,
In earth his footstool, heav'n bis throne,

Be all your praise bestow'd;
Whose hand the beauteous fabric made;
Whose eye the finish'd work survey'd,

And saw that all was good.

Ye angels, who with loud acclaim
Admiring, view'd the new-born frame,

And haild th' eternal King;
Again proclaim your Maker's praise,
Again your thankful voices raise,

And touch the tuneful string.

Praise him, ye bright etherial Plains,
Where in full majesty he deigns

To fix his awful throne;
Ye waters, that above thein roll,
From orb to orb, from pole to pole,

Oh make his praises known.

Thrones, dominations, virtues, pow'm,
Oh join your joyful songs with ours,

With us your voices raise :
From age to age, from day to day,
To Heav'n's eternal Monarch pay

Hymns of eternal praise.

Celestial orb, whose pow'rful ray
Opes the glad eyelids of the day,

Whose influence all things own;
Praise him, whose courts effulgent slitin
With light, as far excelling thine,

As thine the paler moon.

Ye glittering planets of the sky,
Whose beams the absent sun supply,

With him the song purstie;
And let himself submissive own,
He borrows from a brighter sun,

The light he lends to you.

Ye show'rs and dews, whose moisture slie:}
Calls into life the op’ning seed,

To him your praises yield;
Whose influence wakes the genial birth,
Drops fatness on the pregnant earth,

And crowns the laughing field.

Ye winds that oft iempestuous sweep
The ruffled surface of the deep,

With us confess your God:
See through the heavens the King of kinge,
Uyborne on your expanded wings,

Comes flying all abroad.

Ye foods of fire, whene'er ye flow,
With just submission humbly bow

To his superior pow'r;
Who stops the tempest on its way,
Or bids the flaming deluge stay,

And gives it strength to roar.

Ye Summer's heat and Winter's cold,
By turns, in long succession roll'd,

The drooping world to cheer;
Praise him, who gave the sun and moon,
To lead the varions seasons on,

And guide the circling year.

Ye frosts that bind the wat'ry plain,
Ye silent showers of fleecy rain,

Pursue the heav'nly theme;
Praise him, who sheds the driving snow,
Forbids the harden'd waves to flow,

And stops the rapid stream.

Ye days and nights, that swiftly borne
From morn to eve, from eve to morn,

Alternate glide away;
Praise him, whose pever-varying light,
Abent, adds horror to the night,

But, present, gives the day.

Light, from whose rays all beauty springs,
Darkness, whose wide-expanded winys

Involve the dusky globe:
Praise him, who, when the heavens he spread,
Darkness his thick pavilion made,

And light his regal robe.

Praise him, ye lightnings, as ye fiy,
Wing d with hot vengeance through the sky,

Anu red with wrath divine;
Praise aim, ye clouds, that wand'ring stray,
Or, tix'd by him in close

array, Surround his awful sbrine,

PART 11.

EXALT, Ú carth, thy heav'nly King,
Who bids the plants that from thee spring,

With annual verdure bloom;
Whose frequent drops of kindly rain
Prolific swell the rip’ning grain,

And bless thy fertile womb.
Ye mountains, that ambitious rise,
And lift your summits to the skies,

Revere his awful nod;
Think how ye once affrighted fled,
Whic Jordan sought his fountain žieard,

And own'd th' approaching God.
Ye trees that till the rural scene;
Ye flowers that o'er th' enamell’d gree.

In native beauty reign ;
() praise the Ruler of the skies,
Whose hand the genial sap supplies,

And clothes the thankful plain.
Ye secret springs, and gentle rills,
That murmuring rise ainong the hilis,

Or fill the humbler vale;
Pruise him, at whose Almighty nod
The sugged rock dissolving flow'd,

And forined a springing well.
Praise him, ye foods, and seas profound,
Whose waves the spacious earth surround,

And roll from shore to shore;
w'd hy his voice, ye seas, subside,

uds within your channels glide,
! tremble, and adore.

Ye whales, that in the ocean play,
Or, slumb’ring in the wat’ry way,

In shoals unnumber'd lie;
Praise him, by whom ye all are fed,
Praise hiin, without whose heav'nly aid

Ye sicken, faint, and die.

Ye birds, exalt your Maker's name, Begin, and with the important theme

Your artlcss lays improve; Wake with your songs the rising day, Let music sound from every spray,

Ind fill the vocal grove.

Praise him, ye beasts, that nightly rren Amid the solitary gloom,

Th' expected prey to seize; Ye slaves of the laborious plough, Your stubborn necks obsequious bow,

And bend your wearied knees.

Ye sons of men, his praise display, Who stampt his image on your cay, And

gave it pow'r to move : Ye that in Judah's confines dwell, From age to age successive tell

The wonders of his love.

Let Levi's tribe the lay prolong,
Till anyels listen to the song,

And bend attentive down;
Let wonder seize the heavenly train,
Pleas'd while they hear a mortal strain

so sweet, so like their own.