Draw the past Scenes of thy Delight
My Muse, and bring the Wondrous Man to Sight.
Place him surrounded as he stood
With Pious Crowds, while from his Tongue
A Stream of Harmony ran soft along,
And every Ear drank in the flowing Good:
Softly it ran its Silver Way,
Till warm Devotion rais'd the Current strong;
Then fervid Zeal on the sweet Deluge rode,
Life, Love, and Glory, Grace, and Joy
Divinely roll'd promiscuous on the Torrent-Flood,
And bore our Raptur'd Sense away, and Thoughts and Souls to God.
O might we dwell for ever there!
No more return to breath this grosser Air,
This Atmosphere of Sin, Calamity, and Care.