O what a blest employ to raise
Our voices in our Maker’s praise!
Let’s learn, my friends, the fitting song,
To sing it we may hope ere long
Above in courts where angels be,
Above where all is harmony,
And ne’er shall cease our anthem then
Of Holy, Holy Praise. Amen.
THE HARP.
From Goronwy Owen.
The harp to every one is dear
Who hateth vice, and all things evil;
Hail to its gentle voice so clear,
Its gentle voice affrights the Devil!
The Devil can not the Minstrel quell—
He by the Minstrel is confounded;
From Saul was cast the spirit fell,
When David’s harp melodious sounded.
EPIGRAM.
On a Miser who had built a stately Mansion.
From the Cambrian British.
Of every pleasure is thy mansion void;
To ruin-heaps may soon its walls decline.
O heavens, that one poor fire’s but employ’d,
One poor fire only for thy chimneys nine!
Towering white chimneys—kitchen cold and drear—
Chimneys of vanity and empty show—
Chimneys unwarm’d, unsoil’d throughout the year—
Fain would I heatless chimneys overthrow.