A hymn
Omnicient and eternal God,
Who hear'st the faintest pray'r
Distinct as Hallelujahs loud,
Which round thee hymned are.
Here, far from all the world retir'd,
I humbly bow the knee,
And wish, (as I have long desir'd,)
An interest in thee.
But my revolting heart recedes
And rushes to the croud;
My passions stop their ears and lead,
Tho' conscience warns aloud.
How deeply sinful is my mind?
To every ill how prone?
How stubborn my dead heart I find
Insensible as stone?
The hardest marble yet will break,
Nor will resist the steel;
But neither wrath nor love can make
My flinty bosom feel.
My passions like a torrent roar,
And tumbling to hell's glooms
Sweep me away from Reason's shore,
To "where Hope never comes."
By labour turn'd the useless stream
Thro' fertile vales has play'd;
But for to change the course of sin
Demands immortal aid.
All nature pays the homage due
To the supremely blest;
All but the favour'd being who
Was plac'd above the rest.
He bids the teeming earth to bear,
The blushing flow'rs arise;
At his command the sun appears
And warms the orient skies.
Oh! was I but some plant or star,
I might obey him too;
Nor longer with the Being war,
From whom my breath I drew.
[...] Read more
poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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