6
Now, sweet Religion, here thy beauties shone,
Free, unrestrain'd, with lustre all thine own!
Of all the gifts with which frail man is blest,
Thou art the first—friend of the good distrest,
Soother of sorrow's deep contracted brow,
And soft'ner of man's trials here below!
Ah! who can paint the bliss thou dost impart!
Or who can tell the riches of that heart
Where thou, sweet heav'nly Spirit, hold'st thy reign,
Guiding unseen life's interwoven chain
Of good and ill, healing the wounded mind,
Extracting Grief's slow poison, thou dost bind
With balm of cheering hope the throbbing wound,
And guard'st from dark despair the heart to sorrow doom'd.
Let those who scorn thy truths, thy power deny,
Watch round the good man's bed when death is nigh,
And there behold how bright thy beauties shine,
And mark how calmly he can life resign:
Free, unrestrain'd, with lustre all thine own!
Of all the gifts with which frail man is blest,
Thou art the first—friend of the good distrest,
Soother of sorrow's deep contracted brow,
And soft'ner of man's trials here below!
Ah! who can paint the bliss thou dost impart!
Or who can tell the riches of that heart
Where thou, sweet heav'nly Spirit, hold'st thy reign,
Guiding unseen life's interwoven chain
Of good and ill, healing the wounded mind,
Extracting Grief's slow poison, thou dost bind
With balm of cheering hope the throbbing wound,
And guard'st from dark despair the heart to sorrow doom'd.
Let those who scorn thy truths, thy power deny,
Watch round the good man's bed when death is nigh,
And there behold how bright thy beauties shine,
And mark how calmly he can life resign:
