Strokes and tames my rabid grief, Where triumphant darkness hovers And make darkness' self afraid; Still my Shepherd, still my God, Crown'd abundance spreads my board: They are starved, and I am fed. Fresh from the pure glance of Thine eye, Lighting to Eternity. There I'll dwell for ever, there Will I find a purer air. To feed my life with, there I'll sup Balm and nectar in my cup, And thence my ripe soul will I breathe Warm into the arms of death. PSALM CXXXVII. N the proud banks of great Euphrates' flood Our harps, that now no music understood, Nodding on the willows slept, While unhappy captives we, Lovely Sion, thought on thee. They, they that snatch'd us from our country's breast Would have a song carved to their ears In Hebrew numbers, then, O cruel jest! When harps and hearts were drown'd in tears: Sing? play? to whom shall we sing or play Ah! thee, Jerusalem; ah! sooner may This hand forget the mastery Of music's dainty touch, than I The music of thy memory. Which when I lose, O may at once my tongue No, no, thy good, Sion, alone must crown But, Edom, cruel thou! thou criedst, Down, down Sink Sion, down, and never rise! Her falling thou didst urge and thrust, And haste to dash her into dust! Dost laugh? proud Babel's daughter! Do, laugh on, Till thy ruin teach thee tears; Even such as these, laugh, till a 'venging throng Of woes too late do rouse thy fears; Laugh, till thy children's bleeding bones QUEM VIDISTIS PASTORES, ETC. A Hymn of the Nativity, sung by the Shepherds. OME, we shepherds whose blest sight And wake the sun that lies too long. To all our world of well-stol'n joy He slept, and dreamt of no such thing, Tell him we now can show him more Which to be seen needs not his light: TITYRUS. Gloomy night embraced the place Where the noble infant lay: The babe look'd up, and show'd His face; B A A, In In spite of darkness it was day. day of X+ It was Thy day, sweet, and did rise, one day of Not from the East, but from Thy eyes. Chorus. It was Thy day, sweet, &c. THYRSIS. Winter chid aloud, and sent The angry North to wage his wars: The North forgot his fierce intent, Вотн. We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest, We saw Thee, and we blest the sight, TITYRUS. Poor world, said I, what wilt thou do Is this the best thou canst bestow A cold and not too cleanly manger? Contend, the powers of heaven and earth, To fit a bed for this huge birth. Chorus. Contend, the powers, &c. 2 |