John Dryden (1631–1700). The Poems of John Dryden. 1913.
Translations of Latin Hymns and Minor MiscellaniesTe Deum
T
We own thee Lord, and bless thy wondrous ways;
To thee, Eternal Father, Earth’s whole Frame
With loudest Trumpets sounds immortal Fame.
Lord God of Hosts! for thee the heav’nly Pow’rs
With sounding Anthems fill the vaulted Tow’rs.
Thy Cherubims thrice Holy, Holy, Holy cry;
Thrice Holy, all the Seraphims reply,
And thrice returning Echoes endless Songs supply.
Both Heav’n and Earth thy Majesty display;
They owe their Beauty to thy glorious Ray.
Thy Praises fill the loud Apostles’ Quire:
The Train of Prophets in the Song conspire.
Legions of Martyrs in the Chorus shine,
And vocal Blood with vocal Musick join.
By these thy Church, inspir’d by heav’nly Art,
Around the World maintains a second Part,
And tunes her sweetest Notes, O God, to thee,
The Father of unbounded Majesty;
The Son, ador’d Co-partner of thy Seat,
And equal everlasting Paraclete.
Thou King of Glory, Christ, of the Most High
Thou co-eternal filial Deity;
Thou who, to save the World’s impending Doom,
Vouchsaf’dst to dwell within a Virgin’s Womb;
Old Tyrant Death disarm’d, before thee flew
The Bolts of Heav’n, and back the Foldings drew,
To give access, and make thy faithful way;
From God’s right Hand thy filial Beams display.
Thou art to judge the Living and the Dead;
Then spare those Souls for whom thy Veins have bled.
O take us up amongst thy blest above,
To share with them thy everlasting Love
Preserve, O Lord! thy People, and enhance
Thy Blessing on thine own Inheritance.
For ever raise their Hearts, and rule their ways,
Each Day we bless thee, and proclaim thy Praise;
No Age shall fail to celebrate thy Name,
No Hour neglect thy everlasting Fame.
Preserve our Souls, O Lord, this Day from Ill;
Have Mercy on us, Lord, have Mercy still:
As we have hop’d, do thou reward our Pain;
We’ve hop’d in thee, let not our Hope be vain.