Original - Duke Divinity School

This World so Fair, of Joy the bright abode,
Heaven’s darling Child, and Favourite of her God,
Is now an 245 Exile from her Father’s Care,
Delivered o’er to Darkness and Despair.
No Sun in radiant Glory shines on high;
No Light, but from the Terrors of the Sky:
Fallen are her Mountains, her famed Rivers lost,
Together into 246 second Chaos tost:
One Universal Ruin spreads abroad;
Nothing is safe beneath the Throne of God.
Such, Earth, thy Fate! What Then canst Thou afford
To comfort and support thy Guilty Lord?
Man, haughty Lord of all, Say where is Now, […]
Thy boasted Stature and assuming Brow;
Claim kindred with the Clay, and curse thy Form,
That speaks Distinction from his Sister Worm!
What dreadful Pangs the trembling Heart invade!
Lord, why dost Thou forsake whom Thou hast made?
Who can sustain Thy anger? Who can stand
Beneath the Terrors of Thy lifted Hand?
It flies the reach of Thought; O save me, Power
Of Powers Supreme, in this tremendous Hour!
Thou who beneath the Frown of Fate hast stood,
And in thy dreadful Agony sweat Blood;
Thou, who for me, through every throbbing Vein,
Hast felt the Keenest Edge of Mortal Pain; …
Defend me, O my God! O save me, Power
Of Powers Supreme, in this tremendous Hour! […]
And is there a Last Day? And must there come
A sure, a fixt, inexorable Doom?
Ambition, swell, and, thy proud Sails to show,
Take all the Winds that Vanity can blow;
Wealth, on a Golden Mountain blazing stand,
And reach an India forth in either Hand;
245Ori.: “Now looks an ..”
246Ori.: “And all into a ...”
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