The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker/A Hymn

Omnicient and eternal God,
 * Who hear'st the faintest pray'r

Distinct as Hallelujahs loud,
 * Which round thee hymned are.

Here, far from all the world retir'd,
 * I humbly bow the knee,

And wish, (as I have long desir'd,)
 * An interest in thee.

But my revolting heart recedes
 * And rushes to the croud;

My passions stop their ears and lead,
 * Tho' conscience warns aloud.

How deeply sinful is my mind?
 * To every ill how prone?

How stubborn my dead heart I find
 * Insensible as stone?

The hardest marble yet will break,
 * Nor will resist the steel;

But neither wrath nor love can make
 * My flinty bosom feel.

My passions like a torrent roar,
 * And tumbling to hell's glooms

Sweep me away from Reason's shore,
 * To "where Hope never comes."

By labour turn'd the useless stream
 * Thro' fertile vales has play'd;

But for to change the course of sin
 * Demands immortal aid.

All nature pays the homage due
 * To the supremely blest;

All but the favour'd being who
 * Was plac'd above the rest.

He bids the teeming earth to bear,
 * The blushing flow'rs arise;

At his command the sun appears
 * And warms the orient skies.

Oh! was I but some plant or star,
 * I might obey him too;

Nor longer with the Being war,
 * From whom my breath I drew.

Change me, oh God! with ardent cries
 * I'll venture to thy seat;

And if I perish; hell must rise
 * And tear me from thy feet.