Made, from the slaves of darkness, sons of light! Thou filial Deity! whose merits rise To such amazing height in human eyes, A justly humble mind, that feels their sway Too great for earthly language to display, Conceives, e'en seraphs, tho' in glory's beam, May find their voice unequal to the theme! And seems to view them in their heavenly seat, Mute, from pure adoration, at thy feet: Thou blest Restorer of corrupted man From all the snares of Satan's dark divan! Thou, who with true compassion, hast survey'd Lost wanderers perishing without thy aid! To whose pure eyes all wonders are reveal'd, That live in mortals, from themselves conceal'd! Who view'st with favor, when they most aspire, Their narrow faculties, and vast desire! O prosper, and sustain my anxious thought, Pondering thy attributes, as mortals ought! That while I strive to make thy nature known, My zeal may tend to purify my own. Pardon the daring aim of grateful love, If, in research, man's intellect above, I vainly seek such heavenly things to know, As Thou to mortals hast not deign'd to show, Veiling the mode of thy celestial birth From beings blind to mysteries of earth! Thy geniture, and thy redeeming power Transcend the known extent of nature's dower: But pity weak mortality--that tries To reach, what may elude all human eyes! The knowledge man desires, is found by none: The Eternal Sire, He only, knows the Son: Taught by this truth, be it our wish alone To know Him, only as he would be known, By grace divine! his bounty's blest effect On those, who hail Him with devout respect! Thou filial Deity in manly shape! Whose eye no deeds, no thoughts of man, escape! Thy servants have no wound, Thou dost not feel, No sorrow, that thy aid can fail to heal! In all the trials, I was born to bear, Many, and sharp, have fallen to my share; I bless them, leading me to feel, and see, Our sweetest comfort is our trust in Thee. Calm acquiescence in thy sacred will Becomes an antidote to every ill; As tasks, ensuring favour in thy sight, Grief turns to joy, and anguish to delight; Till all the chasten'd heart exults to bless A Martyr's triumph o'er subdued distress! Saviour! whose image pure maternal prayer, Fix'd in my heart, with just dominion there, Thou never banish'd thence! tho' in my youth, I heard rash sceptics, scoffing at thy truth, Deride thy Gospel, and thy deeds revile, As the false tales of an impostor's guile: Blest! that no impious wit had power to blind Thy dawn of favour in my opening mind! There, in maturer seasons, grief, and pain, As heavenly agents, have confirmed thy reign. My spirit's guardian! soother of my woes! Still of my chequer'd days illume the close! All mortals feel, their trespasses require An Intercessor with th' eternal Sire; And on their minds thy cheering favours shine, Who feel, thou art an arbiter divine; Who thy dominion o'er the soul confess, And, as their final Judge, thy Godhead bless! Deign to befriend me in my dying hour!