Where pointed brambles grew,
Intwined with horrid thorn,
Gay flowers, forever new,
The painted fields adorn,—
The blushing rose
And lily there,
In union fair,
Their sweets disclose.
Where the bleak mountain stood
All bare and disarrayed,
See the wide-branching wood
Diffuse its grateful shade;
Tall cedars nod,
And oaks and pines,
And elms and vines
Confess thee God.
The tyrants of the plain
Their savage chase give o'er,—
No more they rend the slain,
And thirst for blood no more;
But infant hands
Fierce tigers stroke,
And lions yoke
In flowery bands.
O, when, Almighty Lord!
Shall these glad things arise,
To verify thy word,
And bless our wandering eyes?
That earth may raise,
With all its tongues,
United songs
Of ardent praise.
PHILIP DODDRIDGE.
*
THE WORD.
O Word of God incarnate,
O Wisdom from on high,
O Truth unchanged, unchanging,