Classic Poem

Blest be the God of Harmony, and Love!
The God above!
And holy dove!
Whose Interceding, spirituall grones
Make restless mones
For dust, and stones,
For dust in every part,
But a hard, stonie heart.

2.

O how in this thy Quire of Souls I stand
(Propt by thy hand)
A heap of sand!
Which busie thoughts (like winds) would scatter quite
And put to flight,
But for thy might;
Thy hand alone doth tame
Those blasts, and knit my frame,

3.

So that both stones, and dust, and all of me
Joyntly agree
To cry to thee,
And in this Musick by thy Martyrs bloud
Seal'd, and made good
Present, O God!
The Eccho of these stones
— My sighes, and grones.