Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.
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ETERNAL Mover, whose diffusèd glory, | |
To show our grovelling reason what Thou art, | |
Unfolds itself in clouds of nature’s story, | |
Where man, Thy proudest creature, acts his part, | |
Whom yet, alas, I know not why, we call | 5 |
The world’s contracted sum, 1 the little all; | |
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For what are we but lumps of walking clay? | |
Why should we swell? whence should our spirits rise? | |
Are not brute beasts as strong, and birds as gay,— | |
Trees longer-lived, and creeping things as wise? | 10 |
Only our souls were left an inward light, | |
To feel our weakness, and confess Thy might. | |
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Thou then, our strength, Father of life and death, | |
To whom our thanks, our vows, ourselves we owe, | |
From me, Thy tenant of this fading breath, | 15 |
Accept those lines which from Thy goodness flow, | |
And Thou, that wert Thy regal Prophet’s muse, | |
Do not Thy praise in weaker strains refuse! | |
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Let these poor notes ascend unto Thy throne, | |
Where majesty doth sit with mercy crowned, | 20 |
Where my Redeemer lives, in whom alone | |
The errors of my wandering life are drowned: | |
Where all the choir of heaven resound the same, | |
That only Thine, Thine is the saving name! | |
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Well then, my soul, joy in the midst of pain; | 25 |
Thy Christ, that conquered hell, shall from above | |
With greater triumph yet return again, | |
And conquer His own justice with His love; | |
Commanding earth and seas to render those | |
Unto His bliss, for whom He paid His woes. | 30 |
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Now have I done; now are my thoughts at peace; | |
And now my joys are stronger than my grief: | |
I feel those comforts, that shall never cease, | |
Future in hope, but present in belief: | |
Thy words are true, Thy promises are just, | 35 |
And Thou wilt find Thy dearly-bought in dust! | |