Aid me, thou holy Pow'r supreme! while I,
To trace the windings of thy footsteps try;
And grant that trembling age and thoughtless youth
May gather wisdom from thy written truth.
Here, in th' inspired records, we may see
Thy providence display'd most pow'rfully;
Here may we view almighty Wisdom plan
His wondrous ways toward his creature, man.
'Tis like the prophet's vision, when of old
The Most High stoop'd his mysteries to unfold;
The living creatures form'd one great machine,
And a wheel moving in a wheel was seen:
And though thy wheels sometimes so high arise,
Quite dreadful they appear to mortal eyes,
Still is thy wisdom seen within — without,
The wheels are full of eyes all round about.
Thy hand each atom guides; all things display
Thy pow'r, thy glory, and thy majesty.
When Israel sinn'd, how high thy wrath arose!
Nor could they stand before their raging foes;
When God in anger kept from them his aid,
By heathen kings sad captives they were led:
There for awhile he left them to their foes,
Whose songs of triumph o'er them proudly rose.
But God was near, he heard his people cry,
He saw each humbled heart — each streaming eye;
And lo! the wonders of those living wheels!
They move, and time the whole great plan reveals.
The Persian monarch held a royal feast,
Where thronging guests his rich provisions taste;
On all, his lib'ral favors he bestowed,
And songs and wine and mirth and music flowed.
His brain inflamed with fumes of sparkling wine,
He thought of Vashti's beauty, deemed divine,
And call'd his queen, who, quite rebellious grown,
Her lord's authority refused to own.
Swift from her throne was hurled the rebel queen,
And in her stead a Jewess fair was seen.
The heathen king sat on a gorgeous throne,
Beneath his yoke the captive Hebrews groan:
Of ancient lineage, of royal blood,
The son of Hammedatha proudly stood;
High his credentials, and the trump of fame
Officious blew to distant lands his name:
His bloated vanity could not endure
To see a Jew, an exile, sad and poor,
Sit upright in the gate, nor lowly bow
His head in dust, with reverential awe
(Mark how pale Envy, eager to torment,
Brings to her own dark breast due punishment!)
So on the gallows fifty cubits high,
Reared by his own hands, see proud Haman die!
His hoarded wealth, his sons, his honors, all
Confiscate — whelmed in his tremendous fall.
Thus was th' Almighty's arm outstretched to raise
His mourning sons, and filled their mouths with praise.
But God of late his anger hath displayed
Against his people, and his arm arrayed
In vengeance for their sins; and, scattered far,
They see no light from Bethlehem's gleaming Star.
The olive branch is broken far and wide,
And the wild olive blossoms in its stead.
Ye favored Gentiles — ye who well have known,
And felt the mercies of God's bleeding Son!
O give your alms, nor dare your aid withhold,
To bring lost Israel to thier Shepherd's fold.