The floods recoil! the ground appears below!
And life’s faint embers now rekindling glow;
Awhile they wait th’ exhausted waves’ retreat,
Then climb slow up the beach with hands and feet.
O Heaven! delivered by whose sovereign hand
Still on destruction’s brink they shuddering stand,
Receive the languid incense they bestow,
That, damp with death, appears not yet to glow;
To thee each soul the warm oblation pays
With trembling ardour of unequal praise;