JOSEPH ADDISON.

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LORD!  WHEN THOSE GLORIOUS LIGHTS I SEE.

    HYMN AND PRAYER FOR THE USE OF BELIEVERS.

  Lord! when those glorious lights I see
    With which thou hast adorned the skies,
  Observing how they moved be,
    And how their splendor fills mine eyes,
  Methinks it is too large a grace,
    But that thy love ordained it so,—­
  That creatures in so high a place
    Should servants be to man below.

  The meanest lamp now shining there
    In size and lustre doth exceed
  The noblest of thy creatures here,
    And of our friendship hath no need. 
  Yet these upon mankind attend
    For secret aid or public light;
  And from the world’s extremest end
    Repair unto us every night.

  O, had that stamp been undefaced
    Which first on us thy hand had set,
  How highly should we have been graced,
    Since we are so much honored yet! 
  Good God, for what but for the sake
    Of thy beloved and only Son,
  Who did on him our nature take,
    Were these exceeding favors done?

  As we by him have honored been,
    Let us to him due honors give;
  Let us uprightness hide our sin,
    And let us worth from him receive. 
  Yea, so let us by grace improve
    What thou by nature doth bestow,
  That to thy dwelling-place above
    We may be raised from below.

GEORGE WITHER.

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HYMN

    BEFORE SUNRISE, IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI.

  Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star
  In his steep course?  So long he seems to pause
  On thy bald, awful head, O sovran Blanc! 
  The Arve and Arveiron at thy base
  Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form,
  Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines
  How silently!  Around thee and above,
  Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black—­
  An ebon mass.  Methinks thou piercest it,
  As with a wedge!  But when I look again,
  It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine,
  Thy habitation from eternity! 
  O dread and silent Mount!  I gazed upon thee,
  Till thou, still present to the bodily sense,
  Didst vanish from my thought.  Entranced in prayer
  I worshipped the Invisible alone.

    Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,
  So sweet we know not we are listening to it,
  Thou, the mean while, wast blending with my thought,—­
  Yea, with my life and life’s own secret joy,—­
  Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused,
  Into the mighty vision passing, there,
  As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven!

    Awake, my soul! not only passive praise
  Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears,
  Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy!  Awake,
  Voice of sweet song!  Awake, my heart, awake! 
  Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my hymn.