Classic Poem

The Power and P RESENCE of GOD.

Omniscient God , who all this vital Frame
Searchest and know'st thro'out, with clear Survey,
My rising — sitting down — minutest Acts,
Most secret, most unmark'd, thy noting Eye
Observes with Cognizance, strict Judge of Man!
Ideas faintly working into Form,
Or e'er they rise to Consciousness, far off
Thy Knowledge comprehends — my daily Path
Mazy and intricate, my nightly Couch
Spread round with Glooms, before thy Vision lie.
Dread Intimate of all my secret Ways!
Thy open Ear, attent, marks every Sound,
Each Whisper of my scarce-pronouncing Tongue.
Before, behind, thy widely-reaching Hand
Around, on ev'ry Side, besets me sure.
O how unable my reflective Pow'rs
To reach the high Idea, vast and full!
Where from thy Spirit, from thy Presence, where
Wou'd my vain shifting Soul attempt to fly?
If thro' yon upper Space immense, that holds
Planets and Suns, in Distance infinite,
To thy own Heav'n I soar, or turn my Flight
Precipitantly back to downmost Hell;
Thy Essence, unconfin'd, inhabits there.
Shou'd I invite the Morning's stretching Wing,
And in the utmost Ocean pitch my Bed,
Fast shou'd thy wond'rous Hand retain me still.
Let Night arise with all her thickest Shade
To cover me, her thickest Shade obscure
Shall shine about me with discov'ring Day.
From thee in vain its Umbrage wou'd conceal
Blank Dark, and Noontide beam to thee the same.
Thou, in the Womb recluse, life-forming Pow'r!
My Reins possess'dst, and cover'dst me unseen.
O, let me praise thee; wonderful and wise
Thy Work of Goodness in my Structure rare.
Each Atom of this regulated Form,
Hid in the Mass of Matter as it lay,
Was all discern'd, thy Care thro' Ages past.
Ev'n from Eternity, thy perfect Eye
Contemplative, my shapeless Substance view'd,
Mark'd in thy sixt Decree, Heav'n's Volume large,
Sure order'd Work, ere Man Existence found.
Great God! O! prais'd, and ever to be prais'd,
To my admiring Soul the Thoughts of thee,
How grateful, how innumerous swell the Sum!
Not the extensive heaps of Ocean's Sands
Yield an Account so full: perpetual Theme
Of my long-waking Hours, nor want they Change.
The Wicked, Sons of Violence and Blood
Enormous, shall thy Arm vindictive waste:
Far from my Path be their Assembly foul,
They breathe Reproach malign, in Treason bold,
Thy Foes avow'd, and with irreverent Mouths
Thy Name tremendous use, that awful Name!
Be Witness thou for me, Jehovah , blest,
Acknowledg'd Lord! if this inseparate Heart
Hates not the Brood that thee disloyal hate;
If griev'd I view not the Rebellious rise;
Inveterate is my Hate, intense its Rage.
I count thy Enemies all, doubly mine.
O with thy pure and inly-piercing Eyes
Search me, dread God, this Heart of Darkness know,
Try the deep Mine of latent Thoughts within;
And if I err restrain my devious Course,
And lead me, thy unwilling Wand'rer lead
In thy blest Path, my everlasting Way.