262
PARAPHRASE UPON THE HYMN OF ST. AMBROSE.
And, lo! Thou com'st, and, lo! the direful sound does make
Through Death's wide realm mortality awake;
And, lo! they all appear
At Thy dread bar,
And all receive the unalterable sentence there.
Affrighted nature trembles at the dismal day,
And shrinks for fear, and vanishes away;
Both that, and time, breathe out their last, and now they die,
And now are swallowed up and lost in vast eternity.
Mercy, O mercy, angry God!
Stop, stop Thy flaming wrath, too fierce to be withstood,
And quench it with the deluge of Thy blood;
Thy precious blood which was so freely spilt
To wash us from the stains of sin and guilt;
O write us with it in the book of fate,
Amongst Thy chosen and predestinate,
Free denizens of heaven, of the immortal state.
7
Both way and star, compass and pilot Thou;
Do Thou this frail and tottering vessel steer
Through life's tempestuous ocean here,
Through all the tossing waves of fear,
And dangerous rocks of black despair.
Safe, under Thee, we shall to the wished haven move,
And reach the undiscovered lands of bliss above.
Thus low, behold! to Thy great name we bow,
And thus we ever wish to grow;
Constant, as time does Thy fixed laws obey,
To Thee our worship and our thanks we pay;
With these, we wake the cheerful light,
With these, we sleep and rest invite;
And thus we spend our breath, and thus we spend our days,
And never cease to sing, and never cease to praise.
