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L. M.

God's condescension to our worship.

Thy favors, Lord, surprise our souls;

Will the Eternal dwell with us?

What canst thou find beneath the poles

To tempt thy chariot downward thus?

Still might he fill his starry throne,

And please his ears with Gabriel's songs;

But th' heav'nly Majesty comes down,

And bows to hearken to our tongues.

Great God! what poor returns we pay

For love so infinite as thine!

Words are but air, and tongues but clay;

But thy compassion's all divine.

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