Come heavenly Muse my voice inspire Teach me to tune the poet's lyre In feeble notes that I may sing And let Religion guide the string. The works of God demand a song From spirits and the angelic throng O then let mortals also raise In humbler strains their songs of praise My soul O look around and see How many things are made for thee For thee the fields are cover'd o'er, For thee the harvest yields its store, Speech, reason, sight, and every sense Is given thee by Providence God's praise is sung by every rill O then let not my tongue be still Let morn, and noon, and shady night Hear praise to him who made the light And to his Son who willing came To save mankind from death and shame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ELEONORA; A PANEGYRICAL POEM by JOHN DRYDEN THE MAY MAGNIFICAT by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 50 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN VERSES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM OF A LADY'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK by THOMAS MOORE ON EDWARD WEBBE, ENGLISH GUNNER by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE HOLLYHOCKS by CRAVEN LANGSTROTH BETTS SHEET LIGHTNING by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |