But Oh! my everlasting Grief!
Heaven has recall'd his Envoy from our Eyes,
Hence Deluges of Sorrow rise,
Nor hope th' Impossible Relief.
Ye Remnants of the Sacred Tribe
Who feel the Loss, come share the Smart,
And mix your Groans with mine:
Where is the Tongue that can describe
Infinite Things with Equal Art,
Or Language so Divine?
Our Passions want the Heavenly Flame,
Almighty Love Breaths faintly in our Songs,
And Awful Threatnings languish on our Tongues;
is a Great, but single Name.
Amidst the Crowd he stands alone;
Stands yet, but with his Starry Pinions on,
Dress't for the Flight and ready to be gone:
Eternal God, command his Stay,
Stretch the dear Months of his Delay;
O we could wish his Age were one Immortal Day!
But when the Flaming Chariot's come
And shining Guards t' attend thy Prophet Home,
Amidst a thousand Weeping Eyes
Send an  down, a Soul of Equal Size,
Or burn the Worthless Globe, and take us to the Skies.