Page:Poems Hornblower.djvu/104

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92

LINES.
On this delicious morning air,
Fain would I raise a holy prayer,
To the great throne above;
And stir the fervent thoughts within,
Till, touched with joy, my lips begin
The song of praise and love.

How shall I praise Him?—Him whose name
Is home on seraph-lips of flame,
Through heaven's re-echoing dome;
In strains so exquisitely wrought,
So Ml of pure and sainted thought,
Oh! with what offering come?

How shall I praise Him?—Him whose word
The hosts of light, with one accord,
Can marshal in array,
And bid then golden wings expand,
Even with a gaze—that radiant hand
Him flying to obey.