Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.
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| ETERNAL Mover, whose diffusèd glory, | |
| To show our grovelling reason what Thou art, | |
| Unfolds itself in clouds of nature’s story, | |
| Where man, Thy proudest creature, acts his part, | |
| Whom yet, alas, I know not why, we call | 5 |
| The world’s contracted sum, 1 the little all; | |
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| For what are we but lumps of walking clay? | |
| Why should we swell? whence should our spirits rise? | |
| Are not brute beasts as strong, and birds as gay,— | |
| Trees longer-lived, and creeping things as wise? | 10 |
| Only our souls were left an inward light, | |
| To feel our weakness, and confess Thy might. | |
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| Thou then, our strength, Father of life and death, | |
| To whom our thanks, our vows, ourselves we owe, | |
| From me, Thy tenant of this fading breath, | 15 |
| Accept those lines which from Thy goodness flow, | |
| And Thou, that wert Thy regal Prophet’s muse, | |
| Do not Thy praise in weaker strains refuse! | |
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| Let these poor notes ascend unto Thy throne, | |
| Where majesty doth sit with mercy crowned, | 20 |
| Where my Redeemer lives, in whom alone | |
| The errors of my wandering life are drowned: | |
| Where all the choir of heaven resound the same, | |
| That only Thine, Thine is the saving name! | |
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| Well then, my soul, joy in the midst of pain; | 25 |
| Thy Christ, that conquered hell, shall from above | |
| With greater triumph yet return again, | |
| And conquer His own justice with His love; | |
| Commanding earth and seas to render those | |
| Unto His bliss, for whom He paid His woes. | 30 |
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| Now have I done; now are my thoughts at peace; | |
| And now my joys are stronger than my grief: | |
| I feel those comforts, that shall never cease, | |
| Future in hope, but present in belief: | |
| Thy words are true, Thy promises are just, | 35 |
| And Thou wilt find Thy dearly-bought in dust! | |
