Memphis daily appeal. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1847-1886, 1870-05-01
For the SUNDAY APPEAL.l
A HYMN TO THE GREAT SU-
PREME.

PREME.
W sing of God; and who is He's
The great and independent One,
Who from his clstsrns filled the sea,
And from his urns the blazing sun,
Author of clouds, and sill the light
That spsngles them at fall of night.
There was a time when concaYe skies
Existed not; and he alone
Who out of nothing bade them rise,
Possessed His undisputed throne.
Oh! blessed, blessed solitude,
On which none other dare intrude,
But at his win what ondro things
To being spring; the cherubim
And angels poised on nesting wings,
Each angel sounding forth his hymn.
All glory TO the great triune
Whose life is one eternal noon.
In his long day, no setting sun
Has ever shown his evening face,
Nor vesper star so prone to run
On golden wheels its beauteous race.
For who can count the leanike years
or Him who desert f~oliagerears9
No time as yet; great all in all,
Is foundf from which those years to tell.
How vain on hnite minds to call,
Or on the search send Addict
Who. If ten thousand ages gone
Would keep his shoon and scallop ont
The heavenly constellations-grand
h dim and dumb. vet eloquent
Proclaim aloud the wOndrous Handle
h shaped them-by its power unspent
Those distant, mighty orbs, he made;
Shine forth He said, n they obey'd.
His works in Harmony abide
All moving on, from day to day,
Superior orbs, inferior guide
To goals on goals, so far
When on their race they start anew
Beneath his all inspiring viewl
To Him, to Him, all things ali things are
known,
If Gabriel pull sone garden flower
That blooms on high; or all alone
Gull Wild ones on some mountain tower,
His mandate haIts the wanderers roam.
And brings the laden'd Pilgrim home.
To Him, all heavenly harps belong
With all their sweet nelodious chords,
From which lows forth each anthem song
Mid gates of pearl, which are the Lords.
Conner of gems, in every sea,
How vast His wealth ! how rich is Hei
What Humboldt, then, shall dare 10 saw
That this whole earth is not his own !?
The poles of which confess his sway,
Wheeling around his shadeless throne.
Embellished by his moon at night,
From distant urns receiving light.
All seas of earth and lakes profound
Are his; and his each river stream,
The waves of which Ger rocks resOnnd
In thunder to The Great supreme!
And all the gently flowing brooks
That dress their banks in grassy looks.
He tinetures mountains green or blue,
And measures out their ranging lines,
Rearing their tops to human view;
Or winds them on, like curling vines,
Watching their myriad tender plants
That thrive in elevated haunts.
Praise him! We hills, we forests wave
In homage at his regal feet,
For all your boughs and leaves he gave.
And flowers that make your summers
sweet,
And birds that keep their warbiinA on
Till morn be down to twilight drawn.
His are the wales, the lowly wales,
That captive sleep in mountain chains,
Where shepherds tell their rustic tales;
Or slopes descending TO the plains,
Tempe, and Gala, and ArnO,
Keswick, and TeyiOt, and Stowe
All, all is thine. The polar snow,
And SHOWS that fall in miIder zones
And tropie belt, where spices grow;
A waist set round with costly stones,
Bright central furnace of the world,
Where vines to juicy wreaths are curId.
Rover of the elliptic ring.
o, earth unwearied in thy race,
1t was his power that fiedg'd thy wing
II sent thee forth thy way to trace;
Nor hast thou called at Twilight Inn,
But wandering, wand'ring on, sans fin,
'Tis time TO pray, for glowing prayer
Is due to him, the Great 1 Am,
whose shield is on the lions lair,
And Ger the trembling meadow lamb;
Who heaps the Alpine crib with grass,
Which Wild goats rife as they pass.
of each hummtng bee,
Ofsparrows in their far off nest,
And birds that glide from tree to tree;
OF good green woods, the welcome guests.
And violets on the April ground,
roses which Queen May has crown'd.
all VI 5iaNCAuA AlCus I
Andea lamas in Peru.
Or eastern fawns on mountains seen;
Dr. AfIic's sands, where bounds the gnu,
And all that wear the spiral horn
Wherever rear'd, whenever born.
Keep them, thy tottering servants, Lord,
Whose budding spring has long been DER;
Who fain e'er long would touch some chord
In that same harp that Gabrie bore,
When bending at Jehovah's feet,
Because redemption was complete.
The tree, the gushing tree of Life,
Stands blooming in yOn sinless sky,
Which needs no angels pruning knife;
In riding which the seraphs vie.
}, lead me to its mellow fruits,
10 loudly praised by heavenly lutes.
There is a harp of lofty praise,
here is a crown of dazzling gold,
There is a lie Of endless days,
u which Apostles sacred told
For all who humbly seek and pray,
Which grace viii freely give away:
THOMAS B. BALEH.
lacomb Manse," Prince William county,
Virginia.
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