Divine, beatitude and wisdom draw;
And in his prayer, what privilege adored!
Mounting the heavens, and claiming audience there;
Yes! there, amid a high, immortal host
Of seraphs, hymning in eternal choir,
A lip of clay its orisons can send,
In temple, or in solitude outbreathed.
R. Montgomery.
Ascribe ye holiness unto the Lord;
Not unto man, for he is never holy: