Arise, my soul! And thou, my voice,
In songs of praise early rejoice!

O great Creator! heavenly King!
Thy praises ever let me sing!

Thy power has made, thy goodness kept
This fenceless body while I slept;
Yet one day more has given me,

From all the powers of darkness free.
O keep my heart from sin secure,
My life unblameable and pure;

That when the last of all my days is come,
Cheerful and fearless I may wait my doom.

FLATMAN.

HYMN FOR THE EVENING.

SLEEP! downy Sleep! come, close mine eyes,

Tired with beholding vanities!

Sweet slumbers, come, and chase away

The toils and follies of the day;

On your soft bosom will I lie,

Forget the world, and learn to die.

O Israel's watchful Shepherd! spread
Tents of angels round my bed;

Let not the spirits of the air,

While I slumber, me ensnare;

But save thy suppliant free from harms,

Clasped in thine everlasting arms.

Clouds and thick darkness are thy throne,
Thy wonderful pavilion:

O, dart from thence a shining ray,

And then my midnight shall be day!

Thus, when the morn, in crimson drest,
Breaks through the windows of the east,
My hymns of thankful praise shall rise,
Like incense, or the morning sacrifice!

FLATMAN.

DEATH.

O THE sad day

When friends shall shake their heads and say
Of miserable me,

Hark how he groans, look how he pants for breath,
See how he struggles with the pangs of death!
When they shall say of these poor eyes-

How hollow and how dim they be!

Mark how his breast does swell and rise

Against his potent enemy!

When some old friend shall step to my bedside,
Touch my chill face, and then shall gently glide,

And when his next companions say—

"How does he do? What hopes?" shall turn away Answering only, with uplifted hand,

Who can his fate withstand?

Then shall a gasp or two do more

Than e'er my rhetoric could before

Persuade the peevish world to trouble me no more!

FLATMAN.

EVENING HYMN.

ALL praise to thee, my God, this night,
For all the blessings of the light;
Keep me, O keep me, King of kings,
Beneath thy own almighty wings!

Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son,
The ill that I this day have done;
That with the world, myself, and thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.

Teach me to live, that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed;
To die, that this vile body may
Rise glorious at the judgment-day.

O may my soul on thee repose,

And may sweet sleep mine eyelids closeSleep, that may me more vig'rous make To serve my God when I awake.

When in the night I sleepless lie,
My soul with heavenly thoughts supply;
Let no ill dreams disturb my rest,
No powers of darkness me molest.

Dull sleep!-of sense me to deprive;

I am but half my time alive;
Thy faithful lovers, Lord, are grieved,
To lie so long of thee bereaved.

But though sleep o'er my frailty reigns,
Let it not hold me long in chains;
And now and then let loose my heart,
Till it an hallelujah dart.

The faster sleep the senses binds,
The more unfettered are our minds;
O may my soul, from matter free,
Thy loveliness unclouded see!

O when shall I, in endless day,
For ever chase dark sleep away:
And hymns with the supernal choir
Incessant sing, and never tire?

O may my guardian, while I sleep,
Close to my bed his vigils keep;
His love angelical instil,

Stop all the avenues of ill.

HYMN ON THE TRANSFIGURATION.

HAIL, King of glory, clad in robes of light!
Outshining all we here call bright!

Hail, light's divinest galaxy!

Hail, express image of the Deity!

Could now thy amorous spouse thy beauties view,

How would her wounds all bleed anew!

Lovely thou art all o'er and bright,

Thou Israel's glory, and thou Gentiles' light.

KEN.

But whence this brightness, whence this sudden day?

Who did thee thus with light array?

Did thy divinity dispense

To its consort a more liberal influence?
Or did some curious angel's chymic art
The spirits of purest light impart,

Drawn from the native spring of day,
And wrought into an organized ray?

Howe'er 'twas done, 'tis glorious and divine,
Thou dost with radiant wonders shine.

The sun with his bright company,

Are all gross meteors, if compared to thee.
Thou art the fountain whence their light does flow,

But to thy will thine own dost owe.

For (as at first) thou didst but say,

"Let there be light,” and straight sprang forth this won

drous day.

Let now the eastern princes come, and bring

Their tributary offering.

There needs no star to guide their flight,

They'll find thee now, great King, by thine own light.

And thou, my soul, adore, love, and admire,

And follow this bright guide of fire.

Do thou thy hymns and praises bring, Whilst angels, with veiled faces, anthems sing.

NORRIS